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Off To the Principal's Office

In the late seventies Cave City school system had two classification levels. Kindergarten through sixth grade was elementary school and seventh through twelfth was high school. Study hall was a class that was offered in each of the grades. Consequently, a seventh grade student might find themselves sharing study hall with seniors or juniors.

During 8th or 9th grade, I was lucky to be able to share a study hall with my cousin Mike. Mike was a couple of grades ahead of me and I'm sure he found me quite annoying. One of my favorite things to do was to call out his middle name when he was with his friends--it would make him so mad! Study hall had one rule--bring a book. It didn't matter what book as long as it was a book and you were required to have it laying on the desktop when the teacher came into the class. Normally, I would take the book from my previous class and finish off any homework I had to do in that subject. If a student did not bring a book there were consequences.

Most of the juniors and seniors would mill about before class and talk, running to their seats when the bell rang. One afternoon I was already at my desk waiting on the bell when Mike runs by and grabs my book, saying he didn't have one and I better not tell. He chose the perfect day. On any other given day I would also have had a library book with me. I tried to grab my book and made sure I called him by his middle name. In my mind I was getting back at him for taking my book.

During the roll call the teacher checked to see who had books and who did not. There were two or three "did nots" including myself. We were all three told to go to the Principal's office. Now, I could have spoken up and said that Mike had my book. The teacher would have made him give it to me and he would have gone to the office, but no. I had to Hobbs up and take the punishment myself. Of course, I was also fairly confident that I would be able to talk myself out of any punishment. While sitting in the Principal's office waiting my turn to go in, I was a bit antsy. Generally, if I got in trouble at school I also got in trouble at home and since this wasn't my first trip to the Principal's office I was pretty sure what was going to happen when I got home.

Finally, it was my turn. I went into the Principal's office and stood in front of the desk. The principal asked me some questions and I answered them, but didn't give up Mike's part in my being in the office. I was not able to talk myself out of punishment. If you didn't have a book in study hall you got a paddling. Two licks with the paddle later, I was able to leave, run by the library, get a book and head back to study hall. Michael Ransom never caught me with only one book again!

What You Say?

When I was in my mid-teens we lived in De Queen, Arkansas. A small town without many touristy sites. One weekend family friends came to visit and since there were not many sights to see, my parents decided we would all drive into Oklahoma for some sightseeing.

One of the stops we made on our excursion was at an Indian memorial. Jim, one of our friends, tried to convince me that if I were to stand in front of the Indian memorial, cross my arms with elbows raised and chant, "Indian, Indian, What you say?" that an Indian spirit would reply, "Nothing at all." My family and Jim both continued to badger me until I gave in and said I would do it.

Stepping up to the memorial, I crossed my arms, raised my elbows and started chanting. After a few seconds, I turned around and said, "It didn't work, I knew that it wouldn't." In turn, Jim walked up to me and kind of pushed me back toward the memorial saying, "You have to stand closer." Reluctantly, I moved closer, crossed my arms, raised my elbows and chanted, "Indian, Indian, What you say?" Jim said, "Did you hear that?" With a roll of my eyes, I said, "No." Jim replied, "I heard it, he said nothing at all. Do it again and raise your voice."

The family was standing around egging me on to do it again. One more time, I crossed my arms, raised my elbows and chanted, "Indian, Indian, What you say?" Jim said, "He said it again!" "The Indian replied nothing at all..." About that time, it dawned on me that the joke was on me. The spirit did reply. I just wasn't listening.

The Gas Tank

Finally, we have bitten the bullet and taken on a car payment for a gently worn car. Of course, it's not cute, red or convertible (which would probably just scream how old I am seeing as how I couldn't possibly have afforded something like that in my youth). The road noise is so quiet now and I don't hear a loud whining noise when sitting at the stop light. Amazing. Raylee was kind enough to drive me to pick it up a few weeks ago and to follow me back home. It was almost empty so we stopped at the Shell to fill-up.

First things first, after pulling up to the pump, I realized that the tank is on the opposite side as our old vehicle so I immediately had to maneuver around so the tank was next to the pump. Secondly, after turning off the car I looked on my left for the gas tank lever (where it was in the old car), not there. I looked all over the dashboard at the various levers and buttons for a gas tank release, still nothing. By then I had decided it didn't have a gas tank button or lever.

Getting out of the car and walking around to the gas tank I tried to open it. It was stuck. I couldn't even get my finger nail in between to try to pry it open. Now I was a bit confused. So, I got back into the car to read the owner's manual. I read all the sections relating to fuel. The only fuel related picture I saw was the "low-fuel light." By this time, I had no clue how to open the door to the gas tank and had almost decided to call the car lot and ask them; instead, I got back out of the car and walked around to the tank. In frustration, I lightly hit the tank door with the side of my fist. Guess what? The door popped open. After ten minutes I had discovered that the gas tank door was spring loaded. I opened and closed it several times to make sure it would continue working.

After filling up with gas, I was able to take our "new" car home. I'm thinking I need a Tommy gun to complete the gangster image in this Chevrolet HHR.

The Closet

Agnes Elizabeth Franks Powell Peebles. 1902-1979. She is standing on the far right at my mother and father's wedding. Grandma Peebles. In actuality, she was my great grandmother.

Each year I spent time at Grandma Peebles' house. It wasn't a very big house. A rectangular shaped house with a large front room and kitchen, a small hall with two bedrooms and a bath between them. The kitchen was kind of small with a wooden cutting board that pushed up into the cabinet. Grandma would pull that board out and I would sit on the stool and eat or "help" while she fixed our food. The pull-out was just the right height for me and I would beg to sit there if she made me a place at the table.

The best thing about going to Grandma's house was the closet. You could enter the closet from the living room or from the back bedroom. It was a long skinny closet with bookshelves full of books, all manner of record albums, boxes of photos, old jewelry cases full of beads, clip-on earrings, watches, hair/hat pins, hats, coats, games and other items. By the time I was twelve, I had probably read every book on the shelves multiple times. Grandma would get out the photos and look at each one and tell me who was in each picture as well as a story about where they were when the photo was done. We both spent countless hours going through the jewelry boxes and trying on the clip earrings and necklaces from as early as the 1920's.

I loved rummaging around in the closet. There was always something new to me to find. Dress up clothes from eras gone by, pointy-toed shoes, yearbooks and old school books that had belonged to my mother with notes to and about her friends--always knowing that each item would elicit a story from Grandma.

We listened to music. Record albums full of songs like Blue Skies and Time After Time by Frank Sinatra, Bicycle Built For Two, songs by Elvis, Chuck Berry and Linda Ronstadt were stored in the closet. Music that would magically transform in my mind to beautifully clothed ladies dancing waltz and polkas.

She taught me to play dominoes and told me stories of my mom and aunts when they were kids. She let me read and lose myself in all kinds of books from mysteries, romance, adventure, the classics and many others. She would sit on the front porch and watch me while I played or ran down the road to the country store. We done silly things and laughed. It was a time of magic and freedom.

I remember when she died. It is the first funeral I remember attending. The cousins and I were stiff in our good clothes, we watched our parents and grandparents grieve without really understanding what was going on. Ricky and I watched as our grandpa lifted her out of her coffin while crying uncontrollably. We were scared, awed by death and its power, sad but without really know how to handle it. We would furtively wipe our eyes. We wanted to offer comfort but didn't know how.

1979 might have been the end of my visits and time spent with my grandmother, but the memories we forged will always be near.

Today I....

It's been a long time since I've posted. Summer just doesn't lend itself to blogging and thought processing. I thought I'd start off simple. Today, I....

had a difficult time waking but got up and got ready anyhow.

spent time with my daughter while driving her to school.

ate lunch with my spouse.

worked at work and so far have done nothing while at home.

relaxed.

I'm Gonna Die!

When our children were about 4 years old, I worked in downtown Little Rock and parked in a parking garage. Due to some increased crime in that area, I carried pepper spray on my keyring. Toby had tried to get me to carry a small handgun; however, since I am so clumsy I opted out. I always tried to remember to keep my keys/pepper spray handy, just in case.....

Usually by the time I got home in the evenings, I had so much on my mind that involved cooking supper, taking care of Raylee and Tia, doing laundry and just trying to relax that I generally just threw my handbag and keys on a shelf. Raylee and Tia had often asked me what the bright yellow button was on my keyring and I had told them that I used it on bad guys. I let them know that it was dangerous and could kill them and that they must not touch it.

One Saturday morning while doing the things working mothers do on weekends, while the kids play, I heard Raylee screaming and crying. He had gotten my keys and managed to spray himself right in the face with the pepper spray. Since I wasn't really sure what to do, I called 911. They had me put him in the shower and start rinsing his face and said an emergency crew would be right over. I had barely gotten him in the shower when they rang the door bell (perk of living in the middle of town).

While the EMT guy was in the bathroom with Raylee, I heard him asking some questions and trying to calm Raylee down. I could hear Raylee loudly screaming at the top of his lungs the entire time, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!"

After the EMT's had taken care of my little boy, they asked me a few questions and I explained to them that I had told both of the children not to touch the pepper spray as it would kill bad guys. They laughed and left.

Even though I was scared to death, you should have seen Raylee's face all scrunched...actually, you couldn't see his face it was covered up by his entire mouth opened as widely as it could open screaming, "I'M GONNA DIE!"

Moral of this story, don't tell your kids pepper spray will kill them -- it'll bring DHS knocking at your door for child endangerment.

Real Vanilla Flavor

I love vanilla. I buy vanilla lotions, perfumes, candles. I love to cook with vanilla and put it in my pancakes, coffee, hot chocolate and other things. Tonight, while making No-Bake Cookies, I put in my teaspoon of vanilla and decided to taste a teaspoon full. My mind was bombarded with memories. (Please bear in mind that this is my memory and my mom might remember it differently.)





As a kid, and by kid I mean any age up to age of 19 or so when I moved out of my parents house, I would make these cookies for my family and friends. I always put a teaspoon of vanilla in the cookies and a teaspoon in my mouth. I thought it was quite tasty. One day my mom came into the kitchen and saw me putting the teaspoon of vanilla in my mouth. I can picture her now in her "full-name mode" with her voice getting louder and gaining a bit of a screech, hands on her hips with elbows akimbo. "SAMANTHA VICTORIA HOBBS WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I was a bit surprised to get the "full-name" treatment but I responded that I was making cookies. She then proceeded to tell me not to sip on the vanilla flavoring any more, that it is mainly alcohol. I thought she meant rubbing alcohol so I quit doing it even though I was tempted each time.





Back to tonight's cookies. After sipping the vanilla and getting a burn all the way down, I know it's not rubbing alcohol she was talking about and the taste isn't what I remembered it to be; however, the cookies were good.

Here's the recipe I use from a cookbook my sister gave me a long time ago. She gave the cookbook and wrote in the front of it that she was giving it to me so I would quit borrowing hers!

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NO BAKE CHOCOLATE OATMEAL COOKIES

2 cups sugar1 stick butter (1/2 cup)1/2 cup Pet milk1 teaspoon vanilla2 1/2 tablespoons cocoa1/2 cup peanut butter3 cups oats
In a medium saucepan, combine all ingredients except peanut butter and oats and cook over medium heat.
Let boil for 1 minute, stirring constantly.
Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter and oats.
Spoon out quickly onto wax paper or aluminum foil.
Cookies will harden as they set.

Daffodils!

By Nithya Shanti

A story that could inspire you for the rest of your life...Several times my daughter had telephoned to say,"Mother, you must come to see the daffodils before they are over."I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead"I will come next Tuesday",I promised a little reluctantly on her third call.Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy.Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I drove there.When I finally walked into my daughter Carolyn'shouse I was welcomed by the joyful sounds of happy children.I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.I told my daughter, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and fog, andthere is nothing in the world except you and my grandchildrenthat I want to see right now. I don't want to drive another inch!"My daughter smiled calmly and said,"We drive in this weather all the time, mother.""Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'm heading for home!" I assured her."But first we're going to see the daffodils. It's just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I'll drive. I'm used to this." "Carolyn," I said sternly, "It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."So we went! After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that read,"Daffodil Garden ---->"We got out of the car, each of us took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight.It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and its surrounding slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.There were five acres of flowers!"Who did this?" I asked Carolyn. "Just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her home." Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house.On the patio, we saw a poster. "Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline.The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read.The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one brain."The third answer was, "Began in 1958."For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop.Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.The principle her daffodil garden taught meis one of the greatest principles of celebration.That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time."It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!"My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said.She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use today?"The Daffodil Principle.

Homemade Vegatable Soup! UMMM GOOD!

First of all, I am not a cook. My husband frequently jokes that I think he's God. When people question him about it he responds with "She feeds me three burnt offerings per day!" Truthfully, he's not far off the mark, add that to the fact that when church potluck comes around the only thing I'm asked to bring are drinks, packaged rolls and paper goods.


Having said all that, a few weeks ago we were watching Good Morning America and the cooking guest was making Dumpling Veggie Soup. After watching and re-winding a few times, I decided to try it. Now I've made homemade vegetable soup many times. It generally tastes like veggies in hot water. I've added tomato sauce, tomato paste, salt, pepper, and everything else in my cabinet trying to get some flavor. Still, hot water with spices and veggies. I've tried fresh veggies, canned veggies, adding the juice from the veggies. Nothing. All soups generally make one nasty meal and then dog food. I've even tried my mom's method...add all leftovers to big bowl and freeze, keep adding after each meal, 1-2 months later, tasty soup. Yeah, right. I tried that and got hot mushy frost bitten leftovers heated up in a great big bowl.


Knowing that all my soup efforts have miserably failed, I still decided to try the GMA recipe. There's a photo of my soup near the bottom of the post. Not only does it look awesome but it tasted wonderful. I've made it a few times with some additions and deletions of different veggies we like and it has been good every time.


Tell me they can't teach an old dog new tricks!

**************

Here's my version of the recipe and if you go to the GMA site and look you can find the real chef's version.

Put soup pot on stove and turn heat on low. When lightly hot add a 1/2 cup of olive oil. Let oil get hot.

Add the following chopped veggies: fresh garlic, onion and (1/2 cup) celery. Cook for 8 mins or so while stirring.

Add 4 cups of Vegetable Broth (wonderful item found in the soup section at Krogers). 4 cups is the entire container.

Take 3 or 4 tablespoons of flour and stir into cold water until smooth. Set aside.

Start adding about 1 cup each of the following veggies:
baby carrots, sliced potatoes (like 4 biggerish ones), corn (the real recipe used green peas) fresh mushrooms (not in original recipe).

Let it come to a slight boil and stir in flour water.

Cook until veggies done.

BTW, I haven't tried the dumpling part of the recipe. Didn't want to push my luck!

It even looks good in the picture!

Excerpt From A WOI

Many of you have asked or heard about Toby's mom. I started writing a fiction piece sometime ago based on his and her stories. There's more but I'm kind of wondering if it's a total waste of time.... You can view the actual facts of the case that he has on his site. www.LindaEdwards.com Please feel free to comment.

***********

It has been said that young children don’t remember. I remember. I remember things that the police don’t want or refuse to listen too. I remember things that only make sense to me now that I am an adult. I remember the day they told me that mom was never coming back.

I remember looking up at my mom. She was so tall I had to stretch my neck way out to look up at her. I could see the sun shining around her lighting up her hair and her smile. I thought she looked like an angel. She always had a smile for me even when I was in trouble. I still miss her. It has been thirty-one years and I still miss her.

There are so many questions. As a child, I was told that my mom had gone on vacation and I would be staying with my dad. In reality, she was missing. Children believe what they are told. I was totally unaware of the massive search. I was unaware for almost six months. Six months of wondering why mom would go away and not take me. Six months of thinking I had done something to displease her and that was why I didn’t get to go on vacation. Life went on. I attended school, played and enjoyed staying with my dad, but always, in the back of my mind I wondered.

After they told me that mom had gone to heaven and wouldn’t be coming home, I cried. One day I was allowed to cry and after that I had to suck it up and be a man. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t answer the questions. I was scared. What if I done something to make my dad mad? Would he go away forever? What if I wasn’t good? Would they send me away? I grew quiet and withdrawn. I had anxiety attacks when I was left with the sitter afraid that nobody would come back and get me and still life went on.

As time passed, I grew rebellious and like many of the teens where I grew up, I tried to test my boundaries. Drugs, alcohol, fighting and other things all in an effort to get the attention I needed. I spent days and months grounded from seeing my friends, from leaving the house, from talking on the phone. An entire summer grounded. It was a relief when school started an escape from home. School offered me a way out of the house. Twelve years passed and I was finally eighteen years old. At eighteen I learned that I was going to receive a settlement as a result of my mom’s death. It devastated me. How could a check compensate for twelve years without a mother? I fell into great depression and old habits. The money ran out and I had to face reality.

Reality checks hit everybody at one time or another. Mine caused me to go back to Arkansas to the town of my mother’s death, get a job and search for a killer. I knew who it was and I just had to prove it. This quest gave me a new lease on life, a reason to straighten up and do what needed to be done. August 1990, fourteen years to the day from my mother’s disappearance I arrived back in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Innocent Heart Murmurs

In keeping with my rock pile post....

Tia was about 4 years old when we had taken her in for a regular check-up. Dr. Cenac, our pediatrician, checked her out and then told us that she had a small heart murmur. He went on to say it was probably an innocent murmur that she would eventually out-grow but that he wanted us to take her to Children's for a follow-up visit. Talk about a parent's heart dropping. Naturally, all we heard was heart murmur....the innocent part went right out the window along with our humor!

Thanks to Dr. Cenac, we managed to get right in at Children's and they ran several tests and confirmed that it was innocent , that she would probably grow out of it and that we had nothing to worry about.

Tia is now 16 years old. According to the last check-up she had, the innocent murmur was still there and we were still assured that she had nothing to worry about.

The funny part about all this is.... As Tia was growing up with her rambunctious brother, if he hit her, or if she ran too fast, or if she was breathing hard or any other complaint, Tia would come to me and say my heart hurts because of _______. It was funny. I often had to assure her that there wasn't anything wrong with her and that the doctor said she was OKAY. Amazing what small children hear and remember.

Not to long ago, I read of somebody that had an innocent heart murmur and as a result had some type of blood clot and died. I immediately thought of Tia. I'm not not worried. The reason why? That's one of the rocks I set in mortar a long time ago and it has a specific meaning and her name on it.

God Always Knows.

You Love Him More!

My sister and I always accused our parents of loving Nancy more than they loved us. She got away with more stuff, had more privileges and was generally spoiled. Of course, as an adult with children of my own I realize that they probably didn't love Nancy more just differently.

When I was born my parents were very young. Young parents always have a different set of criteria for their children--stricter rules, more concerns, etc. By the time my middle sister was born my parents had mellowed out and somethings didn't even apply to the second child. Seriously, being the oldest wasn't all it was cracked up to be! Fifteen years after their first child (me) they had Nancy. Mellow wasn't even a word. It was more like ahhh we have a cute doll to play with and dress up.

I vowed to myself that my children wouldn't feel that way. Ha Ha. My daughter frequently tells me that I love her brother more, that I let him get away with more stuff, that he had a better curfew. The list is endless. In spite of my assurances to the contrary, she never believes me or else she is great at playing me!

My daughter is a beautiful girl. Someday she will have a family of her own and realize that parents really don't love one child more than another--just differently.

Maybe, just today, I'll go home and hold her down and kiss her all over her face like I used to do when she was little....

My Rock Pile

A new year. It's really hard to believe. 2008 passed by so quickly.

Something I tend to do near the beginning of every year is to review my rock pile. It has a lot of rocks in it and each one means something special to me. If you were looking at my rock pile all you would see are rocks. Rocks from the yard, rocks from the creek bed, rocks in every shape size and color. This year the rock pile has a greater meaning for me than in previous years. I hope to be able to add a really large rock to it in a few days.

Let me tell you a bit about my rock pile. It started a long time ago when I heard a message at church about an altar built in the wilderness. The altar was built next to a river out of stones. The message went on to say that each stone meant something to the builder. I've forgotten who preached the message but it's been a while back. Since then, I've built my own rock pile. I have to admit it started out quite small with only a few stones.

There are stones that represent times I've been healed, or passed a particularly hard exam, stones for groceries, stones for needs and desires, and there are even some stones that represent nothing. Some of the stones I've kept there because God supplies your needs but he also gives you the desires of your heart. Some of the desires that he has given me have not panned out the way I thought they would and I have kept those stones to remind me that it isn't always what I want that is beneficial. Some stones are things I've asked for and asked for that haven't been addressed at all that I can see. Just rocks that mean something to me personally.

Since it is the beginning of the new year, I've found myself once again reflecting on the rocks in my pile. As I said, I hope to add a large rock to my pile here in a few days. The great thing about adding rocks is that you quit carrying them around in order to add them to your personal altar.

I challenge those of you who read this to build your own rock pile. It can be a figurative pile in your mind, but take the time to pick up each stone and examine it. Some of the stones will be placed in mortar, they will always be there to remind you. There some some that may be loose, who knows when you will experience a moment of self-doubt or agony that will make you pick up a stone and throw it. Some stones may come and go in your memories, but the ones that mean something to you will be forever in the back of your mind reminding you of the path you've chosen in life.

God bless and Happy New Year.

Christmas 2008

Well,my husband put our tree up the Sunday before Christmas. Better late than never. After he got it started, I helped. Not as much stuff as usual under it but I did manage to get a few treasured items hung on the tree. Here's photo of the tree and of us as Bedheads on Christmas morning. Not the most flattering photo but it will be treasured never the less as this is our last Christmas while my son is still a kid...(18 years old is an adult).

Later on Christmas day my daughter and I rode with my son to Benton to see my family and have dinner. I have to say that while my son drove very well, I was stiff and uneasy the entire time.

Unfortunately, all good things have to end. After enjoying time off and trying to ward off dark thoughts, Monday morning meant waking early and heading off to work. A long day it was too.

While off, the kids were mainly gone and I vegged out on reading mysteries and watching television. I finished two books, managed a warm bath, cooked a couple of meals, watched some old movies and slept all I could.

I hope all of you enjoyed the holiday!

Merry Christmas & Bah Humbug!

Christmas is here again. Each year it gets here faster and faster. This Christmas is slightly better than last Christmas in one aspect and lots worse in others. Hard to be happy and count your blessings, enjoy the season and remember the reason when you have a dark cloud hanging over your head.

I love Christmas decorations. This year all mine are still in the box. The tree is in the box, the village, all the cute things my kids made over the years, all of it. I've yet to purchase one present or even cash my Christmas bonus so I can do so. I have not purchased one item of food for our dinner, prepared any holiday treats or even worn any of my Christmas sweaters.

On the other hand, I've copied 4 reams of paper worth of files for the men in black, managed to pay the majority of the bills I have due this month, worn my brakes down to the rotors so I can be embarrassed while driving around, and completed one more project inside my house.

On the plus side, I still have my job, my husband is working, my children are healthy, we have food to eat, electricity and water to use and so far the rocks aren't crying out.

It could be worse. It could be better. Merry Christmas. Bah humbug. Happy Holidays. It's Christmas and we're all in misery. God bless us everyone. And to all a good night!

Crazy

I haven't had time to post nor have I had the inclination. I have so much to say and don't feel free to say it here now; but I will as soon as I am able.
Have you ever had something happen to you that was so far out the realm of possibility that it is surreal?
Have you ever encountered people that "said" they wanted to help you but are really only trying to help themselves and who will destroy you in the process?
Have you ever been involved in something and didn't even know what it was?
Please pray for me. I feel as if I'm living in a very fragile glass jar that is going to crack at any time. Events are spiraling out of my control. There are people out there who do want to destroy your life.

Today I:

Finished getting the living ready to put up Christmas decorations....

I stayed in my pj's all day long and was warm and cozy.....

Put steaks out to thaw for the grill (indoor version).....

Watched Jurassic Park (complete with commercials), actually kind of liked it and I had not seen it before.....

Played with the cats....

Spent some time with my daughter.....

Read some random blogs....

Washed two windows and the curtain that hangs there....

Channel surfed.....

Tried to be content with where I am in life......

Home Alone!

I had great plans for the day. I knew in advance that I would be home alone so I planned to do somethings to get ready for Christmas. It's not often that there isn't a soul in the house but me and I wanted to take full advantage of it.

On my list, finish miscellaneous scrubbing (the kind I don't do every day), scan some photos, get the living set -up for Christmas decorations, bake bread (in the bread machine), do some laundry, and look for some stuff I can't find since we moved.

What I've accomplished so far today by noon, finished a book I was reading, watched most of Hairspray (fast forwarded through all the singing), cleaned the kitchen, two loads of laundry, blogged and read a few blogs, laid on the bed, played with the cats and dog, and berated myself for not doing the things in the list above.

Oh well, back to the first list....it's so quiet here even with KLove playing.

Another Thanksgiving Past

As usual my Thanksgiving was spent with just the hubby and I. For years, our children have spent Thanksgiving week with my parents camping in north Arkansas. This came about due to jobs and our kids not getting to spend as much time with my folks as we all would have liked.

When they were small this wasn't so bad. It was just a needed break from the day to day toiling. Now that they aren't so small and take care of themselves, I kind of wished they were with me to spend the day. I realize now that their days at home are precious and maybe I've squandered them with my own selfishness.

Thanksgiving this year was a time of reflection. As I grow older, I am learning that time doesn't last forever. So this year, I'm thankful for my home (we almost lost it this year), I'm thankful that we all have good health and food on the table. Most of all, I am thankful for knowing that I have a great family that I love and that loves me back.

Bozo Hair

The day before our son was born, my husband and I went to Fred's to pick up some things. While we were there I began feeling tightening and told him that I thought I was having contractions. Since we had already been to the doctor with braxton hicks contractions, we didn't want to rush to the hospital.

We continued shopping and I kept having to stop and wait out these contractions. Toby saw a hair clipping set and put it in the buggy. He thought we could save a few dollars by cutting his own hair. Finally we finished shopping and headed to our house. I told him I was pretty sure these were real contractions and maybe we should drive to my mom's house just in case. He was okay with that and started putting up the items we had purchased while I got the overnight bag and a few other things to take with us.

Feeling kind of jittery and excited all at the same time, I walked into the bathroom to see if he was ready to go. Wow, he had decided to try out those new clippers. Prior to the new clippers he had worn his hair kind of full, now he had a bozo cut. Full hair flowing from a big freshly mowed gap right down the middle of his head. I don't even think he had put an attachment on the clippers. I didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed. I mean, I was trying to get out of the house and see if we were fixing to have this baby.

Grabbing the clippers, I started shaving his head. I kept telling him it looked all right. He had to wear a cap over a month due to the lovely hair cut. We may have saved a few dollars but he paid for it in other areas.

Oh, and yes that was 18 years ago we went to the hospital to have our baby--those were real contractions. I have to admit he was beautiful to me even though he had a charlie brown head, was all red and wrinkly from a difficult birth and a subsequent emergency c-section. He's still a beautiful boy and his folks love him very much! Plus, he finally grew into that big head!

How Time Flies

Tuesday our baby boy turned 18. He's excited and glad although he's to "cool" to show it or to tell mom. I remember well the night/day he was born. I didn't know how much love I would feel when they put him in my arms. I remember thinking that I was going to be one of those proud parents you see pushing the carts at Wal-Mart.

You know the ones, you can spot them from a mile away. Cart, baby carrier, huge smiles and eyes that make contact with every person passing by, daring or begging them to look at the baby. Give them a few weeks. They will be the parent pushing the cart, baby carrier, hollow-eyes, frazzled looking hair checking out all the aisles that might have something to give the baby to make it quit crying. After a couple more years they will be the parent standing outside in the parking lot at school watching their little one go inside. Trying to act like they are not wiping tears from their eyes.

Our son is 18. He will graduate from high school in May. We have encouraged him to follow his dreams but to back them up with education. No longer can I make he do what I want...I can only hope he has learned life's lessons well and will make good choices.

Excuse me while I go take allergy medicine, I seem to be getting watery eyes. :-)

Still Small Voice

When I was a child my mother would wake me every morning before school. Generally, I could hear her walking down the hall so when she said, "Vicky", I always responded, "I'm awake." I had done that so she wouldn’t turn the light on. To this day I do not like the light on until I get my eyes kind of open. After saying my name she headed back to the kitchen.

Monday morning around 4:30 or 5:00 AM I heard my mother say, "Vicky." My eyes popped open - wide awake. That was odd. I lay there for a bit thinking I was dreaming or something. There wasn't any way that my mother was at my house. I let myself drift off back to sleep. About 30 minutes or so later, I woke up again. This time I could smell my mom's perfume. Really bizarre. I smelled of my pillow and blankets to see if some scent was there. Nothing, just a brief moment while sleeping that I thought I smelled perfume.

Sleeping fitfully, I was glad when the alarm finally went off. I got out of bed and went through my normal routine. In the back of my mind I was watching the clock so I could call my mom to make sure everything was all right. Stranger things have happened so I didn't want to totally discount the voice I heard.

While taking my daughter to school, I called my mom and asked her if everything was all right. Nobody was sick or anything? She assured me that all was well and wanted to know why I was asking. I related the early morning events to her and said that I was just checking in. Mom suggested that perhaps it was God talking to me. I kind of laughed her off and said that I seriously doubted that God smelled just like my mom. From there we got into a short discussion on what we thought God smelled like.

I suggested that I thought of God when I smelled freshly mowed grass, or newly tilled soil or possibly roses. What smells do you associate with God?

Be An Ostrich

There's an old myth about ostrich hiding their heads in the sand. I decided to google this topic one day and found that they really don't hide their heads when the going gets tough. Too bad, it was a nice analogy. In fact, today is one of those days when I wanted to do just that or maybe crawl back into the bed and burrow under the covers. Maybe, if I don't look out all my trials will disappear.

Last night I went into the kitchen and the floor was full of water. Upon investigation I found that the water heater was leaking. I started grabbing towels to soak up the water. I don't have 40 gallons of water worth of towels. It took forever to clean up and it couldn't possibly have been leaking more than 1-2 hours.

The water tank (Kenmore Power Miser 6) isn't very old and I was hoping that it was under warranty. I called the number on the tank and gave them the information. Just my luck, the warranty expired in 2007. Of course, they couldn't be reasonable about it.

That's not the only glitch in the day but no need to depress my faithful readers further. I'm pretty sure I have that covered enough for all of us today!

On a side note, I copied the following excerpt from the Phrase Finder:

Bury your head in the sand
Meaning: Refuse to confront or acknowledge a problem.

Origin
This comes from the supposed habit of ostriches hiding when faced with attack by predators.

The story was first recorded by the Roman writer Pliny the Elder, who suggested that ostriches hide their heads in bushes. Ostriches don't hide, either in bushes or sand, although they do sometimes lie on the ground to make themselves inconspicuous. The 'burying their head in the sand' myth is likely to have originated from people observing them lowering their heads when feeding.

The story also relies on the supposed stupidity of ostriches, and of birds in general. In fact, there's little to support that either as birds have a significantly larger brain to weight ratio than many other species of animal. The notion is that the supposedly dumb ostrich believes that if it can't see its attacker then the attacker can't see it. This was nicely reformed as a joke on Douglas Adams' 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy', in which the 'Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal' was described as 'so mind-bogglingly stupid that it assumes that if you can't see it, then it can't see you.'

Darning

This weekend I done something that I have never done before. Darned. Well, maybe not in the traditional sense of the word, but never the less. The entire time I was darning, I kept thinking that it sounded a lot more fun reading about it in books and that this was certainly an indication of how much the failing economy has affected me personally.

We have two sets of really nice sheets that fit our bed. Really nice because they are about 800 thread count. If you're familiar with thread count then you understand the really nice part. Some time ago one of the sheets developed a small tear. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time (mainly because it was on the hubby's side of the bed). Eventually my hubby changed the sheets on day and viola the tear is now on my side. Not only on my side but right where my foot catches it when I'm getting out of bed. A small tear started growing and growing until it became an L shaped tear between washings.

Saturday morning as I got out of bed my foot caught the tear. That was the last time. I changed the sheets and took the fitted sheet to the ironing board. Turning it wrong side out, I cut strips of iron on patches out and "darned" my sheet. No more hole. I've washed the sheets and put them back on the shelf. I've yet to see how my darn job worked.

Hmm, perhaps I can put the repair back on the hubby's side!

STOP! I Can't Breathe!

My husband is a big prankster and tease. He's gotten me many, many times during the past 18 years. One thing he done almost every night while we watch TV is to grap my nose and pinch it shut. Invariably, I would try to push him away while yelling "STOP, I can't breathe." Always, he laughed and laughed.

A few months ago we were going through the same routine. Me, gasping for breathe while he laughs. Finally, he told me I could breathe because my mouth was open. DUH! Ok, granted I'm not always the brightest bulb in the house but even I should have figured that one out!

Not to be deterred, he waited a bit before trying it again. HA - he's not going to get me with that old trick. It took me a few seconds, but I managed to breathe AND push his hand off my nose!

I am truly blessed to be able to laugh at myself! ENJOY!

The Any Key

Tammy and I were fortunate in that our dad got a computer while we were young. There wasn't a lot we were allowed to do other than play a few games and since I was taking business classes I go to balance the checkbook on the computer program. Fun! Fun!

The computer's in the early eighties all had DOS based programs. Consequently, if something needed to be done a command would show that stated "Press any key to continue". Tammy was probably 9 or 10 and I clearly remember her telling my dad to press the any key. Dad was perplexed until she demonstrated to him. The SPACE BAR was the any key.

To this day, I never see that command on the screen that I don't immediately smile and think of Tammy and the any key.

Friends

Many times over the years I've felt as if I needed a friend. The most memorable time was my senior year in high school. I'd attended the same school up through 11th grade and then my folks moved. A senior in a new school. I was odd and ugly and poor and felt like a fish out of water.


That summer I attended our church camp as usual. A place that was magical to me because everybody there was of a similar belief and standard. That year Reverend Anthony Mangun and his wife Mickey were the camp evangelists. Sister Mickey sang a song that she had written and she spoke about God giving her that song right before camp. It is one of only a few of her songs that never made it main stream. Little did she know that God had given her that song and message just for me. It was a melody I frequently sang in my head my entire senior year of high school and one that's meant a lot to me over the years. The title of the song was simply "Friends" and part of it went a little like this: Friends, friends, Jesus and I are friends - Friends from long ago - Friends when I didn't even know that we were friends. When I was lonesome or lonely or just plain tired of trying to fit in that melody would be in my head. When I was discouraged and depressed I would sing that song.


I googled Mickey Mangun recently and while I got a lot of hits on her name, not once was this song mentioned. To all intents and purposes it was a colossal failure in the music world. Since I couldn't find this song for you to hear, I have included a video of her here and hope that you enjoy it and are as blessed as I always am when I listen to her sing.

I was unable to put the actual video here but please click the link to go to YouTube and listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOtYmV6RoCQ

Daisy, Daisy

This is Daisy. She's a mid-size full-blood Yorkshire Terrier with all the grit and guts of her breed. Back when the economy was good, I took my first full check that was not designated toward a bill and bought her. She was a tiny, tiny puppy when I picked her out of the litter. Unlike my kids, I can dress Daisy up in cute little outfits. She's always glad to get dressed up because she knows she's going to go someplace. I never realized that dogs have such distinct personalities until I had one of my own.

I've been walking around our circle (the pedometer kind of motivates me) and I've been taking Daisy with me. She doesn't walk. The entire time out she is at a dead run. Unfortunately for her the leash doesn't go very far so she's either straining to get ahead or looking at me like I'm really slow. After a couple of days she finally figured out that instead of trying to run ahead she can run continuously by zigzagging. It's really quite funny to watch.

We've taught her to do a few tricks. She can speak, dance, shake hands and lay down. The problem is that she has learned that unless she smells a treat -- no trick. The one thing you can trick her with is by getting her coat out. She knows the coat means she gets to go someplace. She will stand up and let me put her coat on and then go sit by the door until I leave...even if I'm not going anywhere. She'll sit for sometime before she will come to me and start doing all her tricks without any prompts.

Nothing important today...just a little insight into my world.... Have a safe and Happy Halloween!

Small Pleasures

I've been busy -- still unpacking and cleaning and working and, well doing all the things I have to do. If I don't do them myself, then they kind of don't get done..... That means I haven't been able to post for a few days.


Last Friday (a week ago, so you see I am behind) my Mom called and said they were passing through town and could they meet me for lunch. I was glad to hear from them and tried to pick a place near where they would be driving by so they wouldn't have to go out of their way. I picked Subway. They would have preferred The Cracker Barrel but I didn't think about that as I tend to be kind of cheap ish.....a by product of my life.

At any rate, it was good to see my folks. I don't see them nearly enough and I know in my heart I will regret that someday. Not to mention that as my kids get older I'm probably gonna reap what I sow. What goes around comes around. I think you get the picture.

Football season is upon us. Yeah for me. I've learned more about football in 10 years that I cared to learn. I can almost name off all the teams now and their mascot things. The only good thing about football season is that I can read a novel in peace, take long baths, tackle projects without being annoyed or a host of other things while Toby watches the games. For that small blessing, I am thankful!

I have an entire bag of poppy seeds that I need to sow....maybe I can do that while football is on this next weekend.....

Enjoy the beautiful fall weather, I know I am.

Solar Dryer

Sometime ago my husband finally got around to putting up my clothes line. Knowing that the kids wouldn't want to help, we came up with the idea of telling them that Dad was building a solar dryer and they were going to be the helpers. WoW! A solar dryer, that sounded like a really important project and they were both on board for something fun. As the day progressed and the project began to take shape, they both realized that a solar dryer wasn't anything fancy. In fact, it was just a regular old clothesline that meant they were going to have to do more work! They both knew those clothes didn't get solar dried without some body's nimble fingers helping.

Several hours later, the lines were taunt, the clothespins clipped, the sun was shining and all that was needed were some clothes. Lucky for them, I had a load ready and waiting.

I sent my daughter out to hang up the load so we could try out our new solar dryer. After she had finished, I looked out to admire the laundry waving in the wind, for some reason, there didn't seem to be as many articles of clothing as I thought there would be. Walking out on the deck to look closer, I noticed that none of my daughter's clothes were actually hanging on the line. Walking back into the house, I called to my daughter asking her why her clothes weren't on the line. I couldn't help but smile as she told me her things felt dry enough! Needless to say, I made her hang her clothes out too!

Our solar dryer is pictured above. The snapshot was taken from the deck!

Anne Pressly

KATV local news is the only local news station that we watch regularly. We've seen lots of change over the years, newbies that have done well and moved on, newbies that have disappeared off the radar and then those newbies that have become our friends. I don't mean our personal friends that we know and love and spend time with but our TV friends.

Anne was one of our "TV friends" by virtue of having been a newbie and survived. She started out with the fun stuff on-site commentary and eventually moved into main stream news reporting as an anchor. She had a lovely smile and a lot of enthusiasm. A week ago Saturday we watched her interview about being chosen for a bit part in the movie "W" and how excited she was to have been able to participate. A few days later we heard that she had been brutally attacked in her home.

Like all of Arkansas, we watched and listened to hear of her recovery and the apprehension of her attacker. Today, I found out that she was unable to recover and her life has ended. My heart goes out to her mother, who found her and to the rest of her family and friends who are grieving for her today.

May God be with you all.

Barf

Our dog (boxer/lab spoiled dog) got loose last night. Normally, Mr. Bear stays out side on a run all day and comes into sleep at night. (My husband and daughter are die hard animal lovers). Last night sometime after I fed Mr. Bear, he got off his run. I'm sure he had a great time terrorizing the neighbors.

Oft times we have left overs or scraps from supper. Most of the time I put them in one of those plastic grocery bags and stick them in the trash since I don't have a garbage disposal. However, last night I decided to go green and dispose of them out in the woods next to our house.

Tia had a volleyball game in Mena last night. She got home around 10:00. While she was getting out of the car, Mr. Bear decided to help her in the door. It took her a few minutes to get him inside the house as he likes his freedom, but she managed it.

I was asleep by 10:00 but woke up near midnight for some reason. Mr. Bear was lying on the floor and must have really had some gas....it smelled so bad that I looked around for a pile. He's never used the bathroom in the house so I wasn't surprised not to find anything. I decided it must be just gas.

This morning, I got up to go about my day. There in the floor right next to my bed was a huge pile of dog vomit. While holding my nose I began cleaning it up. I recognised some of the items in the vomit.....those scraps that I had thrown out in the woods ended up right back in my house.

Needless to say, I'm going back to the plastic bag in the trash method!

Cool Mornings

We've not been running the central heat and air for at least a month. While it has been a little warm in the afternoons, the mornings have been downright chilly. Our daughter told me the other day that she would like a heater in her room. I just laughed and told her it would be soon enough that the heat would be on and the windows all closed.



That reminded me of our house when I was a kid. We didn't have central heat or air -- just fans. We did have a window unit that Mom would turn on in the heat of the summer on the weekends while Dad was home all day. They hung a big blanket over the hall way door so all the air would stay in the front room. During the winters we heated with a wood stove. Getting out of bed during the mornings was tough. Nothing wakes you up like a cold blast of air! We had so many covers on our bed creating a cozy warm spot. I used to lay so still because if you moved the sheets were cold.



Our kids are spoiled. We made them that way. I'm finding I enjoy giving them a little taste of what life used to be before modern conveniences arrived. Someday they will appreciate it. :-)

Happy Birthday

The reason for today's pity party is (drum roll) I forgot my husband's birthday. He called me at work around mid-morning to ask me today's date. Thinking he wasn't near a calendar, I glanced at my calendar and said today's uhhh your birthday.

To my credit, I did try to convince him that I hadn't forgotten that I was just waiting until lunch so I could bring him a cake and surprise him.

He didn't buy that.

Oh well, after eating crow all evening, I'll just have to try again next year.

Breaking and Entering

A few days ago my husband asked me where all the towels and washcloths were located. I told him I thought we had put up all the laundry so they should be in the cabinet. He told me that there were only a handful in the cabinet and asked if I had put some of the boxes in storage that might have the towels and washcloths in them. Since I'm somewhat absent minded, I thought maybe I had stored some boxes that should have been unpacked.

After checking the storage building before work one morning, I found not one towel or washcloth. Later in the day, I mentioned that I had checked the storage and didn't find any boxes that should have been unpacked. By now, I was curious about where all the towels and washcloths were. He asked me if I has checked the dryer at the rent house we moved from and I said that I didn't think I had done so. So, around 8:30 or 9:00 that evening my daughter and I drove over to the rent house. We were looking around as we pulled in to see if it had been rented or to see if anybody was there. It still looked vacant.

It was kind of scary going over there to look around. The landlord people are not the most understanding folks in the world but, lucky for me, the laundry door wasn't locked and I was able to go in and check the dryer. Guess what? I found a full load of towels and washcloths. I loaded up my daughter's arms and told her to get in the car. We were both laughing about how we could get caught stealing our own laundry. Technically, entering an unlocked door is not breaking; however, I'd hate to have to explain that technicality to the police.