Life as I See It

Hey, Holy Roller

2012-02-17T18:40:00.000-06:00

There are many memories I have of being the only Pentecostal in public school in the eighties. It was one thing attending school where I had grown up and already knew everybody and already answered all the "big" questions. You know the ones, "Why are you wearing a long dress?" "Why aren't you wearing makeup?" "Why don't you cut your hair?" and other less polite questions. Very few people asked the important question about salvation or my core beliefs. That was fine with me at that point in my life. I just wanted to fit in or be invisible. Not the invisible that meant nobody saw me or knew who I was, but the invisible that avoided the "big" questions and weird looks--like I was the one that was weird.

Prior to my senior year my family moved to De Queen where I was able to start all over. It was a new beginning, right? I could be a "cool" Pentecostal kid that managed to hang out in the background. All the kids there had built friendships since Kindergarten so all I had to do was be invisible for one school year. It's really much harder than it sounds especially when you talk--a lot. Add to the fact that somehow I transferred into a bigger school as a "smart" student. (I have no idea how the smart rumor came about but it managed to make me less invisible.)

One particular school day stands out in my memory. It was a pretty fall day and as always, students congregated in the court yard during lunch. I had met another new student and we tended to hang out together during lunch. The two of us were standing near the door with our backs to the rest of the groups in the courtyard waiting on the bell to ring, minding our own business. Over the hum of conversations and horseplay we heard somebody call out, "Hey, holy roller!" We didn't pay any attention as there were a lot of students in the courtyard and we weren't involved in any other conversations. After a few seconds, we heard it again, "Hey, holy roller!"

The second time I heard it I realized what I had heard and was silently praying, "Dear God, please don't let them be hollering at me". I was still shooting for that invisible thing and decided to ignore the hollers and assume they were talking to somebody, anybody else. Apparently, ignoring the call didn't help as we heard it again, much louder and more insistent than before, "HEY HOLY ROLLER!" At this point somebody tapped my shoulder and said, "I think they are hollering at you." I was mortified, embarrassed, sweating from nervousness. I turned around and as far across the courtyard as you could be from where we stood was a guy named Dennis, hollering at me while horsing around with his friends. I'll never know how the rest of that could have played out as I was literally saved by the bell. I hurried into the building thanking God the bell rang and I could escape with my red face.

So much for being invisible.

In Retrospect...

2012-01-01T12:55:00.002-06:00

Looking back at the year 2011 clearly presents an argument for the old saying “hindsight is 20/20.” There were some things I wish I had reacted to differently and others that couldn’t have played out any better. It was a short year, of course, since turning 40 all years have seemed short. Case in point, the year I had to wait to get my driver’s license at age 16 lasted forever--not to mention the eternity it took for church camp to roll around each summer. Today, the previous month is over before I’m fully aware that it began!

The year started off kind of crazy and scary (just like the end of 2008 only better); however, this strengthened my resolve to find a new career path. With a renewed interest and desire, I managed to complete my undergrad degree. I may have been the oldest graduate in Henderson’s class of 2011 but I was also the one with the biggest smile. It was a wonderful feeling to finish something I started when dirt was young. Not to out-do myself, I jumped right back into school to get my master’s degree. If all goes well, I should have that completed by the end of 2012.

Something I learned about myself during the past year is that I didn’t take the time to enjoy my children while they were small. I was so busy making sure everything was right and trying to fit my family of pegs into the holes where I thought they should be that I missed enjoying their laughter. I spent more time correcting than hugging my children. Now they are young adults and the hugs aren’t as important to them. They are both trying to live their own lives and I’m desperately grasping at keeping them small and close to me.

I came to the realization this past year that I lived a lot of my life being uptight and controlling. I’m learning to relax now, to accept people for who they are and not who I want or expect them to be. I’m learning that everybody doesn’t like my brand of humor or personality and that’s ok, I no longer feel as if I have to please everyone. It’s taken me 40 years of growing to realize that life isn’t perfect and to quit expecting perfection.

I’ve set some personal goals for myself during the next year. I hesitate to say I’ve made New Year’s Resolutions as that always set me up for failure. Goals or milestones are easier to obtain and if I don’t reach those goals, I’m ok with that as long as I keep trying.

2012—ready or not, here I come. I expect success this year, to expect any less is failure. Success isn’t measured by how much money there is in my pocket, and that’s a good thing as any money I have never makes it to my pocket. Success is measured by the love, peace and contentment in my life. I’m beginning the New Year with words from my Grandpa Hobbs, “Truly, I love the Lord.” There’s not a better way to kick off success in 2012

Stand For Truth - by Toby Edwards 10/12/2011

2011-10-12T11:06:00.001-05:00

Stand for truth
through lies and misconceptions
Stand for truth
through slander and deceptions
Stand for truth
when all ails
Stand for truth
when all else fails
Stand for truth
and by his hand truth will guide you
Stand for truth
and in the end truth will stand for you

2011-06-28T10:35:00.001-05:00

The sky looks angry.

Happy Father's Day

2011-06-19T15:23:00.001-05:00

There are things I learned from my dad that I didn’t even know I’d learned until I was much older. He was my dad. He was usually gone when I got up and after supper he was relaxing and we were leaving him alone to do so. It wasn’t like it is today. Dad’s went to work, came home, ate supper, relaxed and went to bed in an endless cycle of making a living. Weekends were usually spent doing yard and garden work, working on cars or home projects. It was my life and I was happy.

When I was twelve, things changed a bit. Our dad started going to church and I saw a lot more of him then. It was a 20 mile ride to church and back and we were there at least four times per week. At church we learned that if our dad looked at us, we had better straighten up. If our dad pointed his finger at us during church we straightened up and then were very quiet on the drive home –hoping he would forget the incident. If he told us we were in trouble, it was the longest 20 minute ride home. A ride you hoped would never end and at the same time you were wishing it over. It was my life and I was happy.

Times changed. Our dad started preaching and we were going to different churches in hopes of finding the right place. This was fun, we met a lot of new people and were always hopeful that the perfect church was right there waiting for us. By the time I was ending my junior year in high school, we found that place. Our family moved to DeQueen. It wasn’t Beverly Hills, there were not any movie stars or swimming pools; but there were people who wanted us to be there. Moving meant going to a new school, new friends, new church routines, new everything. It was my life, I adjusted and I was happy.
During this time of teenage angst and struggle, I’m sure I embarrassed and annoyed our dad. There were times he embarrassed and annoyed me. Face it, telling a guy he had to ask your dad before you could go get a coke was both annoying and embarrassing. But I learned things. I learned that you get up every morning and go to work. I learned that you don’t always eat the food on the table so the kids will have food. I learned that you only got new socks at Christmas because the rest of the year the kids had to have stuff. I learned that you had to make choices. It was my life and I was happy.

I learned that no matter what I did, my dad would back me up in public. He might make me wish I was dead and gone when I got home but I didn’t have to worry about his support in public. I learned that no matter how hard he had to work, he did his best to get us what we needed and some of what we wanted. I learned that when he said No, I didn’t ask again. I learned that when I wrecked the car, he really didn’t kill me. When I disappointed him, he cried. That impacts a person. It changes the way you think about your dad when you’re a child and how you perceive him as an adult. It was just life and you had to be happy.

Today, life is different. I have my own life and my own children. The things I learned from my dad have affected how I’ve raised my own children. Some lessons I tossed by the wayside, only to pick them up again. Some lessons, I’ve changed so they fit better. My dad made me able to make a life for my own family. It’s my life and I’m happy and I owe it to my dad.

Happy father’s day to a dad who always loved me even when I didn’t really know what it cost him.

Running In Circles

2011-06-18T17:52:00.003-05:00

Phoebe Running on Friends episode.

Have you ever noticed how runners on the Olympics and in track meets look so lean and in-sync? The arms and legs pumping rhythmically, torsos slightly bent, nostrils flaring as they breathe in and their mouths slightly parted on the exhale? Look more closely and you can see their abs expand as they breathe in and out. It’s amazing.

Recently, I joined the local Crossfit training program. I’ve been to boot camp and the gym and those just were not working for me. Crossfit seemed a bit different so I decided to give it a try. I’ve discovered that I’m both stronger and weaker than I thought I was. I can do things called back squats, clean and jerks, push press and other exercises using heavy weights—at least heavy for me. Today the local group workout of the day was to meet at the track and run 5k. Did you know 5k is the same as 12 laps around the football track and around 3 miles?

Normally I try to sleep in on Saturday mornings; however, this morning I had my alarm set so I could go to the track. I was all enthused. Oh wait, that wasn’t me that was the instructor. He was a regular Pollyanna. I stretched, yawned, jumped around and tried to wake up, messed with my phone (since it has music now), found the stop watch thing so I could time myself and off I went. I picked the smallest circle to run in as it looked shorter. I’m jogging along, some 4 beat country music in my ear, yawning and just trying to keep my feet moving. I have to get 12 of these circles knocked out. Circle 1 and 2 took a little over 8 minutes. I didn’t think that was so bad.

By the third time around I had figured out how to time an individual lap on my phone. Third and fourth laps were around 4 minutes each; again I thought I was doing great. Fifth round I ran the two long sides of the circle and walked the short sides. Sixth round I only managed to run one short side but still was done in 4 minutes or so. By now, my shins are dying. I was seriously considering stopping but thought that I wanted to complete. Seventh round—no running more like walk and upright crawl. I had to call it quits. Twenty-eight minutes of my morning gone by in a blur of black circles.

I am not a runner. I don’t enjoy running and enjoy it less after today. My legs may pump along like the Olympic runners, but there’s not any grace, leanness or in-sync motion in any of my movements. Feet pumping, mouth wide open with loud heaving gasps of air, torso bent forward in the hopes that I will reach my goal sooner rather than later and arms flailing wildly like a windmill. My spouse says I look like Phoebe in a Friends episode. Trust me, that is not a compliment.

Needless to say, I have not developed an affinity for running but I have to keep on trying to turn back time.

2011-06-18T11:50:00.001-05:00

What a day!

It Is Finished!

2011-05-14T19:29:00.004-05:00

In 1971 I started Head start (the Kindergarten of the dark ages). Now, forty years later, I have graduated from Henderson State with my BSG. It’s been a long ride and it’s not over yet. I actually love school. My mom had to make me stay home when I was sick—not so my sisters! I loved reading and writing, recess and my friends; it was all good. I was probably the only student who read the entire text books assigned to me within the first month of school.

There were a few teachers along the way who truly inspired me. Mrs. Battles and Mr. Bobby Holcomb were both high school English teachers who pushed and prodded me to be a better student and to dream big. However, as a high school student, it was never discussed whether I would attend college or not. I knew that it just wasn’t in the cards. Financial aid wasn’t as plentiful then as it is now and while I was a good student, I wasn’t the top student. I graduated in the top quarter of my class and was fortunate enough to “win” a scholarship to the local vocational technical school.

Vo-tech provided me with the skills needed to get a job. I loved it. Back then I could type upwards to 150 wpm, do around 15 thousand keystrokes on the 10-key calculator and write 110 wpm in shorthand. My hard work paid off and I earned a Secretarial Science Certificate. These skills, even the shorthand, have helped me get to where I am today.

In spite of a job that paid well, I just wasn’t happy. I really wanted to go to college and in 1987 my boss decided to relocate. This was the proverbial boot in the seat needed to motivate me to go ahead and try to enroll in college (and move out o my parent’s house since I was 20 years old). My original goal in attending college was to be one of the first in my family to get a college degree. Financial aid and 30+ hours per week at Wendy’s saw me through all but one semester of college at HSU. One semester prior to graduating, I quit to get married and raise a family. Looking back, we might not have struggled quite as much through the years had I just stuck it out. And to top it off, Dana beat me to the degree, not to mention that she was smarter and a lot more driven than I would ever be and went much further than I had even dreamed of going.

Learning certainly didn’t stop when I quit school. At one point I worked for a life insurance company (that’s where the shorthand helped) and took several insurance classes--mostly so I could get a pay raise. After PFL, I became an office manager to some small companies and continued in that line of work until an opportunity was given to me to become a real estate appraiser. This required even more education and an exam to qualify for my license. I failed the state exam by one question the first time but passed with low flying colors the second time. I was excited to enter a new field and have continued learning and education in that field for the past 10 years.

Eventually though, all good things come to an end. The mortgage industry crashed and along with it, the majority of my livelihood. Dark days and sleepless nights were the norm. It was time to see about completing school and a career change. In 2008, since I like to eat, I took a “real” job instead of being self-employed and enrolled in classes. Friday the 13^th of 2011 saw the end of a long journey. I have many people to thank along the way, my parents for being supportive and encouraging me to go to school, my friends and family and who kept telling me I could do it, my children for waiting on me when I had to study or take exams, and last but not least, my husband, who has helped me study and wiped my tears when I thought it was too hard and wanted to give up. It is finished but the battle is far from over. I’ve been accepted into the Master’s program and my goal is to complete it within 18 months or less. I know I can do it and I know it will not be easy. Besides, I have to catch-up to Dana!

The moral? Don’t let old age hold ya’ back!

Christmas With Family 2010

2010-12-22T18:26:00.005-06:00

We celebrated a lovely Christmas with Toby's sister, Kim, and her family on Sunday. Both Raylee and Tia had guest this year. We missed Ashley, who had to work. I made her come over later to get food and her gift. Unlike the rest of the family, she was spared seeing my magic tricks. Lucky her.

Magic tricks, I love them and I've managed to make almost all the family suffer through the half dozen I've learned. I have fun and they just shake their heads. Tia said I was reduced to age 8 when I opened that present. The magic set has to be among the top 10 gifts to me this year! 6 tricks down and 193 to go!

The meal this year was a bit less traditional and it turned out really good. I didn't burn anything (what a shocker). We had pork loin, ham, green bean casserole, corn, mashed potatoes, rolls, salad. Kim brought cake and deer spaghetti. All was delicious. We ate so much that I was sure we'd all be passed out before the afternoon was over. As it turned out, I think only Brian and Morgan fell asleep.

Gift giving was fun. Prank gifts are a favorite at our house and everybody is fair game. Cole is always leery about opening gifts. He remembers the Christmas Raylee received a training bra and how the bigger guys put it on him. This makes Cole open his presents very carefully. He was lucky this year as the worst that happened was him superimposed on a photo of Hooter girls. He informed us that he hated us! It was all in good fun and we knew he really didn't mean it. Secretly he was just glad it wasn't a training bra.

Tori got a very tiny pair of horse shaped ear rings. Tiny. The box that was wrapped was large with several smaller boxes inside one another. It took her several minutes to work her way down to the actual gift. Her facial expression was priceless as she said, "that great big box for this little bitty present!"

I recycle boxes for gift wrapping so what you open might not really be what you get. Morgan opened her gift and said, "I got oatmeal." Surprise. Not really. I think she was relieved to find a fuzzy blanket in the box.

The big kids all left, the guys and Kim watched football, Cole played Wii and I beat Tori in a game of Mexican Dominoes. She was loving the game right up until I won.

It was a happy day filled with family,friends and food. Here's is a goofy photo of all of us. This group can not be serious!

Tired

2010-07-31T20:59:00.003-05:00

I'm tired--tired of always taking the high road and doing the right thing.
I'm tired. Just plain tired.

I'm tired of playing devil's advocate and trying to view all sides of the issue.
I'm tired of being the parent, the mediator, the adult.
Tired. Just plain tired.

I'm tired of being the cook; nobody likes the food anyway.
I'm tired of waking up everyday only to find that nothing has changed.
I'm tired of struggling to make ends meet.
Tired. Just plain tired.

Tired of the rat race.
Tired of running as fast as I can and getting no where fast.
I'm tired of going around in circles.
Tired of looking for the answers that aren't right when I find them.
Tired. Just plain tired.

Tired of doing the same thing every day; day after day after day.
Tired of not being able to do what I want to do without constant interruptions.
So very tired of being whom I'm expected to be instead of just being myself.
I'm tired of doing and its never enough.
I'm tired of trying to just be.
Tired. Just plain tired.

I'm tired of living but too lazy to die.

Diary of a Potato Farmer - Weeks Ahead

2010-06-20T14:08:00.010-05:00

Weeks four, five, six, and maybe a few more have passed. We finally got the potato trash cans totally full of dirt and waited, somewhat impatiently, for the potatoes to start peeping through. There have been numerous times I've gone out there and stuck my arm into the dirt to see if I could feel any potatoes. No such luck. The tops have all come up and we are waiting on them to die off. According to the Internet, the plants have to die before the potatoes are ready.

In the meantime, our garden is looking great and I've already had some produce out of it. I have huge green tomatoes and I can't wait until they are ready to eat! The corn is making, beans are sprouting, cucumbers are growing, fruit is ripening, and peppers are coming along nicely.

I've already picked several cucumbers. Some of them I've eaten but the others I've made cheating pickles with. I bet you're wondering what a cheating pickle is, huh? I've been saving the pickle juice from my favorite pickles. Klaussen's dills, bread-n-butter, hamburger pickles, etc. Yesterday I cut up all the cucumbers I had and put them in the various pickle jars. I have to admit that I tried some of them today....oh my, good and so much less work than trying to make pickles; which I've done in the past without good results.....

Here are some pictures of our garden and our first bit of produce. Enjoy!

Homemade Hamburger Buns

2010-06-12T16:10:00.005-05:00

There are few hamburger buns out there that we (mainly my husband) like. They are either too big, too small or fall apart. I have found a brand that seems to hold up pretty well, but they cost $2.00 for a package of 8 and we eat a lot of burgers during the summer.

I decided to try making homemade hamburger buns. It's just bread dough shaped into a bun so it should be relatively easy. I've made bread in the bread machine and it tasted all right, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. After doing a bit of research on the Internet, I found a recipe that I thought I could manage.
Approximately 45 minutes, 4 dirty bowls, 2 mixing cups, and four cups of flour later, I formed the buns prior to cooking. They didn't rise as much as I thought they should; however, after the requisite 30 minutes I went ahead and placed them in the pre-heated oven. The cooking time was 25 minutes or so until golden brown.

They smelled pretty good cooking although they never did turn golden brown. They didn't even look so bad as you can see for yourself.

After these came out of the oven, I thought they felt heavy. After weighing them, I found that each bun weighed at least 1/4 pound. Taste--not so great. Oh well, I'll try again tomorrow....

Diary of a Potatoe Farmer - Week 3

2010-05-16T18:20:00.006-05:00

My, my how does my garden grow. The potatoes are growing like, well weeds. There's no other description. Week 3 and over half of the trash cans are full of compost already.

My husband decided to expand our strawberry patch. In order to do so, we had to move the strawberries to a new area as the previous bed wasn't large enough. Unfortunately, the space that appeared to be the best for strawberries is around the metal shed where we have the potatoes. No worries, we would just move the potatoes to a spot nearer the house and fence in around the shed for the strawberries.

Please note that the trashcans are almost half full. Do you know how much a half-full can of compost weighs? Not to mention the fact that I bought the cheapest trashcans not the really good hard plastic kind that you can drag or pick-up easily. There should be a video of Toby moving these; however, he completed this project while I was at work. All I got was the second hand version of his moving them.

The strawberries are doing well. The fence was put up because animals kept digging around in them and I got tired of constantly replanting. We probably won't have any strawberries until year but I'm already looking forward to fresh strawberry shortcake.

Speaking of shortcake, I did make a strawberry shortcake for my husband the first week or two we were married. I was so excited. I bought the little cakes, bought strawberries and cool whip. I put the cakes into pretty bowls, cut the tops off the strawberries and artfully arranged them on the top, covered and put them in the fridge until time to eat. After supper, I got the two bowls out and covered them with cool whip. I was watching carefully as he took the first bite, took a drink, took another bite and then said, "these are really dry." I was crushed. I thought I was doing something really special and it flopped. The next day I went over to Sis. Malcom's house and asked her about it. She asked me a few questions. Did I cut the strawberries up? Did I put sugar on them? Did I stir them so they would make juice? All my answers were NO. NO. NO. So what, my first attempt at strawberry shortcake was a bit dry, it would be better next time, right?

The trashcans of potatoes are now lined up in front of the house. I'm sure the neighbors love them. It gives new meaning to trashy neighbors!

Diary of a Potato Farmer - Compost Side Note

2010-05-15T07:00:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned earlier, P. Allen Smith inspired me to start my own composting pile. Here's the link to HIS version of this: http://www.pallensmith.com/articles/trash-can-compost-bin

After I saw this on his show, my husband went out to the shed to see if we had an old trash can to "re-cycle." Lucky me we did! I immediately went and got out his drill so he could get started drilling. That process was fairly painless. It is a bit more difficult to drill into plastic than it is wood due to the instability of plastic and it took us about 10 minutes to get the holes in it. I found a place to park it and eureka, I was ready to go.

Of course, I didn't have anything to put in the compost pile so I had to go dig out the weeds from the flower bed. I had been putting this off for some time and I'm positive my husband was glad to see me cleaning it out--regardless of the reason.

It also jump started me to hit up the produce section in the store. After all, it takes both brown and green to make compost.

The photo with the lid on it is the finished compost can and the red bucket is what I've been using to haul the weeds and grass clipping around the yard. I originally was carrying the clippings and things in my arms; however, I must have developed some serious allergies to pollen because I was sneezing and my eyes were swelling shut so badly that I had to find a new way to haul the clippings.

This is a photo after I have gotten some compost going. I roll the can about once per week and frequently check to make sure it is heating up. It took several days for me to feel heat. I finally had to water it with the hose to make it jump start itself.

Composting is a slow process. I have much more respect for the city compost center than I previously had. Shoveling compost may be smelly but it sure makes it to my plants quicker than my own homemade stash!

Oh, I almost forgot. I do not like to walk to the compost pile every time I have a few veggie scraps to put inside. At first, I was putting these scraps into an ice cream bucket. Every time I opened the bucket there by the sink, the stench would make me gag. I kept thinking about how to prevent the smell and I didn't want to spend the $50 on the inside stainless steel compost container. One night while sleeping (that's when I get my best ideas) I had an epiphany. I now line the ice cream bucket with a couple of pages from the newspaper. The newspaper absorbs the smell and any liquids and I can place it directly into the compost pile when I dump out my bucket. You can see part of the newspaper on the top of the pile in photo. It's a miracle!

In addition to composting, we have started making manure tea and are using it to fertilize our garden. It's fairly easy and much more healthy than commercial fertilizers. You should try it....get a 5 gallon bucket, an old pillow case, a bag of cured manure from your local co-op and start brewing!

Diary of a Potato Farmer - Week 2

2010-05-13T21:28:00.004-05:00

I've been checking my trash can potatoes every day. It's been two or three days now and no green is poking through. It's a good thing because I'm going to have to go to the city compost center to get more compost. First it was raining and they were closed and then their screen machine was down and they didn't have any left when I got there.

This inspired me to start my own compost pile after I saw P. Allen Smith demonstrate one on his television show. It's in another trash can. That's a different story though.....

At any rate almost a week after I covered the potatoes the first time, I finally saw some green poking out. Only three days later they exploded with growth and I had to get on the ball to get them covered. I'm so ready for the harvest. I planted the following varieties, one variety per can: Blue potatoes, Gold Yukon, Red and Russet. The Blue potatoes actually have blue tinted leaves. It's really exciting to watch them grow.

By the time I managed to get compost this week, it took almost three buckets per can to cover up the potatoes. The object of this (according to the articles I researched) is that every time you cover the plants you get a new layer of potato growth. You keep covering each batch until you fill the can with compost. After the can is full, you let the plants continue growing until harvest time. At the rate these potatoes are growing, I'll have my buckets filled up about 6 weeks after I started the process.

The picture is one of the sets that I started in the garbage bag.

Diary of a Potato Farmer - Week 1

2010-05-13T18:55:00.006-05:00

We've had a vegetable garden several years now and have always wanted to have a potato patch. Lack of space prevented us from doing so; however, this year I ran across an article that talked about growing potatoes in a trash can. Several articles and weeks later, I purchased 5 32-gallon trash cans. The adventure was started.

The article indicated that you drill drainage holes in the bottom of the can, put about 4-6 inches of compost in the can and plant up to 5 potato eyes. Every time the plants grew up to 1" tall, we were to cover them back up with compost. This was to continue until the can was full of compost at which time you let the plant grow and process as if it were in the garden. Sounds easy enough.

Week 1:

Bought trash cans, drilled drainage holes, put in compost and potato eyes. I thought it would take a couple of weeks for the plants to poke through, but I was wrong. By the end of the first week, the picture at the top was what had grown. I planted potatoes in both trash cans and garbage bags. It took 2 five gallon buckets of compost per container to cover up the first batch of plant growth.

Good Fences Good Neighbors Make

2010-05-13T18:23:00.002-05:00

There's a song that says, "God is great, beer is good and people are crazy." I can agree that people are crazy. I've always operated on the concept that all people are basically good. Everybody has something to offer if you will just give them a chance. Overall, that's worked for me. I've met a few people that I could take or leave but not any that I just plain didn't like--and even those had something positive to offer, just not to me.

It's been several years that we have lived at our current address. We aren't the most social people on our block and we have never attended the "block" party. The "block" party has always been held at our next door neighbor's house. I suppose some of our neighbors think we are just anti-social; however, that was fine with me. It meant nobody knocked on my door asking to borrow sugar or to use the swimming pool.

We purchased this house around 10 years ago. It didn't have any landscaping at the time and that was fine with me also. I even mentioned to our neighbor that I was glad that the flowerbeds bordering the property were hers as keeping up with them wasn't my cup of tea. Apparently she took this to heart. Over the years my husband and son have built several planters and we have flowers. To be truthful, we have mostly weeds and I usually am pulled into working on them reluctantly. I like the flowers and love them to be pretty, I just don't want to work in the garden. Recently, I found out that it offended my neighbor because we have planters. The offense was taken because I had said that wasn't my cup of tea 10 years earlier. Who knew. Ten years ago I also didn't drink diet coke or use anti-wrinkle cream either.

I also recently found out that I had killed my neighbors' tiny dog. It had a gun shot wound. Interesting. Admittedly, it was found dead in my yard and we kindly went to let them know about it. I'm not sure that I would have told them it was dead and let them come to pick it up if I had shot it, but oh well.

Different things have happened over the years and I've always admonished my family to just let it go. Ignore it, don't let it get to you because they are looking for a reaction. However, this last incident has gotten my blood boiling. I'm still holding my tongue but it's taking tremendous effort.

Robert Frost wrote a poem that says, good fences good neighbors make. Obviously our fence is not tall or long enough to make a good neighbor. In fact, because I have a fence and a security system, I'm the (and this is a direct quote) biggest drug dealer on the block. Wow. If that were so, I would not be driving a 1997, four times wrecked, 300k miles, Sentra. I would at least have a vehicle that could out run any police officers!

A few weeks ago our boxer/lab mix dog got off his dog run. At night, he's in our home but during the day I clip him outside. My neighbor (who says she has had vicious dog training) called the cops because our dog attacked her little tiny dog. Since then, animal control has issued me a citation of a vicious dog. She told them it was a pit bull. That's some vicious dog training when you can't tell a pit bull from a lab. The officer was very apologetic that they had to come out. I felt sorry for him -- and for me.

At any rate, I'm past the ignore it and it'll go away stage. The gloves are off. My fence didn't make any good neighbors and there really are some crazy people out there.

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

Mending Wall
by Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors”.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”

Drive-Bys

2010-05-02T19:01:00.001-05:00

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS MY VERSION OF TODAY.

I had a drive-by appraisal appointment today. It was quite interesting. Normally, a drive-by appraisal involves taking a picture of the street and the front of the house, makes a few notes, and drive-off. However, today the house was not visible from the street and since I did not see a “no trespassing” sign, I preceded to pull into the driveway to take a photo of the front of the house. Apparently, the homeowner saw me pull into the drive and she came out to the porch and hollered at me. Being the courteous person I am, I walked toward her to see what she wanted and to let her know why I was at her home. From there, it all went downhill.

The lady of the house (and I use the word lady very loosely at this point) started telling me that they paid cash for their home and that I had no business taking a photo of her house. She asked me who I was working for and I showed her my appraisal licensed issued by our state. I also tried to explain to her that there were a variety of reasons that I could have been assigned to come to her home that had nothing at all to do with them or their purchase.

Unfortunately for me the lady decided she wanted to call the local county sheriff and report me for trespassing. She asked me to please wait until they got there and I agreed. After all, I had nothing to hide. I asked if she knew how long it would be as I had some other appointments scheduled and would need to call those individuals to let them know I would be late. She said it usually took the sheriff about 10 minutes to get to her place. (Now I’m thinking she calls them a lot if she knows how long it takes them to arrive).

During the wait for the officer, the lady asked me a lot questions I was unable to answer. She accused me of withholding information. Patiently, I answered what I could and told her that I would cooperate with her within the legalities of my profession. For once, the arrival of the police was welcome. By now, my hands and body were shaking and I was becoming quite annoyed. Bear in mind that I still had the polite smile on my face and my responses were kind even if my teeth were gritted together. I had already given her my phone number and contact information and showed her my license.

The police called in my information and told her that I checked out fine. This must have made her a bit mad because she then had this conversation with the officer.

Lady: “Sir, will you arrest her camera?”

Officer: “Umm, I don’t think I can do that…”

Lady: Do you know you can or you can’t?

Officer: “I would have to call and ask?

Lady: Then you better call.”

(Ok, face it annoyed though I am, I’m kind of mad now but this is funny)

The officer walked back out to his car, made a call and came back. “Ma’am, I cannot arrest her camera or the pictures on it without a warrant.

Lady: Can you arrest her for trespassing?

Officer: “No.” He went on to tell her she would have to come to the office tomorrow, fill out some paperwork and show that I was trespassing; but he didn’t see any “no trespassing” signs posted. That since they called him out the most that would happen was going to leave peaceably and unless I came back onto the property nothing would happen. “

Lady: “Then put it in the She in the police report that she be required to contact her with my client information.”

Officer: “I’m not able to do that.”

Lady (to me): “Will you delete your photos voluntarily?”

Me: “Not at this moment, I would have to see what my rights are in this situation.”

Lady: “Well, what are your rights?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t attend law school and so I can’t answer that.”

Lady: “Well, what can you do?”

Me: “My job—for which you called the sheriff.”

Lady: “You need to quit lying to me and give me the phone number to the people who hired you to come to my house and take photos.” “She could be taking pictures to stake my house out for robbery.”

Me: “Ma’am, I have not refused to do anything you’ve asked. I do not have the information with me and I will have to check to see what I can give you legally. If you will please give me your contact information, I will do what I can…”

Lady: “You’re lying and ignoring me.

Me: “You are entitled to your opinion that I am lying. However, I did not come here to have you lecture me and will not listen to you do so. If you will give me the information, I will take my happy self off your property. Officer?”

Officer: “Ma’am, she’s done nothing wrong, please give her the information so she can leave.”

Lady: “She’s lying and she has that information with her.”

Me: “Officer?” (I’m sure he can see that I’m so close to punching her. Please bear in mind that this lady was at least 5 times larger than I am).

Officer: “Ma’am, please give her the information.”

As you can see, a non-event turned into quite the drama today. Enjoy and avoid stupid red-neck people. Oh, by the way, I found out that this fine specimen of our human race is a teacher to our students.

And now you know.

Titan Plus Turbo Peeler

2010-04-24T08:23:00.004-05:00

Recently, I purchased the Titan plus turbo peeler. This peeler is stainless steel and dishwasher safe. The package also claims, “It’s so easy!” The turbo peeler actually resembles the old-fashioned carrot peeler that my mom used to use. In addition to regular peeling, the Titan plus turbo peeler allows you to create decorative vegetables with its cutting board. It really is a kitchen magician. While it peels and cleans easily, it was somewhat difficult to initially figure out how to attach the cutting board. If using the slicing feature with the board, be careful of your fingertips.

The Titan turbo slices, shreds, peels, grates, garnishes, and shaves. While the directions to do the fancy decorations appear to be easy, the actual results are little more difficult to achieve. I have used this tool primarily to peel potatoes, cucumbers and carrots, slice vegetables and other simple kitchen prep tasks. Perhaps with practice the fancy foods would be easy as well; however, it was not worth investing my time to learn.

I would recommend this product for purchase and general kitchen prep use in the home.

Mud or Not?

2010-04-12T18:04:00.002-05:00

We have a cat that's about 1 year old. She found us when she was barely big enough to hold in just one hand. She started out as a typical night roaming cat until the night she got beaten up and now she sleeps in our room at night. She won't even go close to the outside door after dark and sleeps throughout the night. When the alarm goes off she starts meowing, loudly, for food.

Most days I wake up in stages. The first stage is at the 6 am alarm, the second is the 7 minutes later snoozed alarm and so it progresses. By 6:30 I am usually out of the bed and headed to the shower. Please be aware that being up doesn't really mean I'm awake and fully functioning, because I am not really awake or functioning.

A couple of days ago, according to my regular morning routine, I stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower on. After I got into the shower, I noticed that there was mud running off my foot. I thought that was odd but decided that it had come off my flip flop. I continued standing under the running water enjoying the warmth and waking up. A few minutes later, I noticed the mud was still on my foot. As I was leaning down to look at my foot, this horrible smell assaulted me. It smelled like crap. Furthermore, it kind of looked like crap. Really, crap on my foot at 6:30 am? I had to be mistaken.

I opened the shower curtain and looked on the floor; again, thinking it must have come off my flip flop. Right there on the bathmat was a large pile of crap with a perfect print of my foot right in the middle of it.

Need I say that I scrubbed my foot (and the shower) within an inch of their lives? One can only imagine how the rest of that day panned out.

Hobbs Family Reunion

2010-04-10T17:45:00.003-05:00

Take 56 people more or less, all with big personalities and egos, throw in some food, fun and music and you have the receipe for Hobbs Family Reunion. Oddly enough, there were only a few small children running around and about a dozen teens and young adults. As for most of the rest of us, I have to say we weren't on the up side of the hill.

Since it has been many years since I attended a family reunion, I was pleasantly surprised to meet some relatives that I vaguely remembered as a child. Aunt Snow, Carolyn, Ron and??? were old but new relatives to me and we reminisced about camping on Spring River. It is odd what memories will come back to you as you talk about happenings from the past.

I was excited to see some of my cousins that I had not seen since I was small. We are all so different from back then and yet still so the same.

There were some that were missed at the reunion. Those who were unable to make it and those who are no longer with us. I remembered them today.

While filling my plate, Carolyn remarked about (Grandma) Dorothy and how she would turn over in her grave if she knew some of us grand kids didn't cook (I'm not pointing any fingers at either myself or Becky).

As I hugged all my aunts and uncles, I remembered Aunt Pat and Aunt Donna. Aunt Donna always had a big laugh and ready smile and listening to Michael talk was like listening to Uncle J.D., I kept waiting for him to kick his leg in the air and shout Hallelujah.

Last, but not least, Grandpa Hobbs. I can only imagine that he would have been proud to see all the family that came together today. In his own gruff mean way, he loved all of us-even if he couldn't express it.

Blue Eyes Smiling

2010-01-22T19:12:00.005-06:00

She was such a small child, feisty and barely big enough to play in her walker. Yet, play she did. Bouncing up and down and making cute baby sounds. Huge cornflower blue eyes would crinkle up in smiles or brighten with shiny tears as the mood struck her and struck her it did, often and loudly.

The father worked full-time, long hours supporting his growing family. He left early in the mornings while his children slept and many nights he would not be home until time for the children to go to sleep. Love his family? More than his own life. Weekends were spent doing yard work, home repairs, car repairs and enjoying and living life.

A stay-at-home mother who started the house work early in the morning in order to be ready to watch her soaps and visit with her neighbors. A mother who created a home for her family, who lovingly prepared meals, washed laundry and cared for her children.

Morning after morning passed. Each day with the sameness and contentment as the day before. Life wasn't perfect, it wasn't meant to be; but it was enjoyed. One day, much like the others before it, saw a beautiful sunrise. A sunrise that inspired that extra morning push to get the household chores completed. The mother, in anticipation of the weekend, put dinner on the stove. She could hear the baby, who was still asleep, start to stir, so she finished dinner preparations and went to take care of her.

Tickling and playing with the baby while getting her ready for the day made the mother smile. The baby was quickly dressed and put into her walker. Little feet barely touched the floor while the baby kicked and bounced. While kissing the top of the baby's head, the mother pushed her into the living room to play while the mother finished the housework.

Playing quietly, small chuckles escaping, the baby kept kicking and bouncing while the mother cleaned and dusted in the same room. Kicking and bouncing, slowly moving. There wasn't a destination, just a small bouncy baby inching across the room, bouncing, kicking into the hall. She could sometimes get her little feet just enough on the hardwood floor of the hall to give a slide and run into the wall. Laughter filled the space as the baby played in her walker.

Suddenly screams pierced the air. Blood-splitting, indescribable screams echoed through the house. The mother's heart stopped even as she ran through the house. A loud crashing noise mixed with the screams as the mother entered the kitchen. A horrible burning smell filled the room, small pieces of burned charred flesh floated through the air, beans splashed all over the front of the stove, the floor and all down the baby's head and body. The mother could hear her own screams over all else.

Wrapping the baby in a sheet and running out of the door the mother was screaming at the top of her lungs for somebody to please help her, help me, help my baby. She was screaming so loudly, neighbors came out, seeing the blood and skin, the raw bloody screaming mass that was the baby. Somebody called the hospital, the police, the father. Mother and baby were transported to the hospital. There was no hope. None.

Minutes passed slowly and turned into hours, the mother and father clinging to one another, helplessly waiting. An army of doctors and nurses were trying to save the baby and an army of men and women were praying to God for a miracle. An eternity of time passed before the doctor came out and said they had done all they could do and now they could only wait and see.

Five days passed and the baby was still in critical condition, two-thirds of the baby's body was badly burned but hope was slowly blooming in the hearts of the mother and father. Sixteen more days the baby spent in the burn center. Nothing but those cornflower blue eyes peering out from rolls upon rolls of bandages. Eyes that were happy to see her parents, eyes that didn't understand the pain but understood the love.

Back at home the mother and the father resumed their lives. Lives that were changed forever. A new path was forged for the family. Unknowingly, the greatest tragedy of their lives created a bedrock upon which they would form a dynasty.

Knock, Knock

2009-12-24T09:05:00.006-06:00

He came to work with his dad because school was out. Just a small child in Kindergarten, tow-headed, a little bit quiet and preoccupied with the computer game his dad had put on for him to play while waiting to leave. His dad had placed him at the workstation next to mine and I could tell he was getting fidgety after sitting there and playing quietly for some time.

Thinking that it would help him pass the time, I thought I'd tell him a few jokes. The first few fell flat and I determined that they were a little out of his age range, but I continued and started on knock-knock jokes. He finally cracked a smile, it was like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. I was so excited that I googled some other jokes to entertain him with while his dad worked.

He cracked a few smiles, chucked a few times and then I asked him this one, "Knock, knock," "Who's there?" he said. You could tell he was anticipating the next line, so I said, "Boo!" When he replied with boo hoo, I asked him why he was crying. With the most puzzled look on his face, he turned back to the computer. I could tell his brain was trying to wrap around the question.

Turning back to me, he finally responded, "I don't know why I'm crying!" With that, he resumed playing computer games and quit listening to me tell him jokes.

Christmas Magic

2009-12-21T18:55:00.006-06:00

As a child Christmas was a magic time. Even though we didn't have much money, our parents would always make sure there were gifts under the tree that we wanted although we didn't know which gifts they choose for us. Every year around Christmas time we would circle things we wanted in the Sears Christmas catalog and my mom would pick from the items we wanted. Mom would wrap the gifts and place them under the tree.

Hardly a day went by that I, or my sisters, weren't shaking the packages and trying to guess what was in them or asking our mom for clues. Time passed and we were no longer small children, but Christmas was still a special time. The tree was retired and our gifts were usually smaller and grouped around the piano. Gifts were still secrets and shaking the packages was still a guilty Christmas time pleasure. We rarely had extended family with us for Christmas after we moved across the state, but that didn't stop us from having fun with our immediate family and our local church friends.

One afternoon, as a teenager, I was shaking packages and badgering my mom for clues as to which gifts were mine. It must have been an extremely stressful day for my mom because she asked me if I wanted to know what I had gotten for Christmas. In spite of my frantic NO, she begin telling me all that I had gotten. I was devastated. No surprises for me on Christmas day. Trust me when I say that I never again bugged her about what was in my packages.

Over the next several Christmas seasons my mom would ask me if I wanted to know what they had gotten me for Christmas--the answer was always NO.

Bah Humbug!

2009-12-18T17:36:00.005-06:00

Every year I think about writing one of those hokey Christmas newsletters. Every year I start it off with the first few sentences and then quit. All the other Christmas newsletters I read have so much good news like Sally made all A’s, Dean got full paid scholarship, Mike got a promotion, we took a long vacation to the somewhere far away and expensive, and it goes on and on. It seriously makes me want to barf! Consequently, I always quit because mine would go something like this:

It was a year in 2008 and slightly better in 2009. We lost our shirt in a business venture, was homeless for a few months, our house was in foreclosure and then slated to be auctioned, we collectively gained a 100 pounds that won’t find someplace else to live, our kids are growing up and (in spite of us and possibly needing counseling) they are doing fine.

Well, fine except one kid had ACL surgery twice this year. Both kids think I love the other child more, both are deprived because their friends all have new cars to drive and name brand clothes to wear and neither understands the value of being poor and learning to pull yourself up by the bootstraps.

Fortunately, in this bad economy both of the adults in the house have jobs. I use the word jobs because the word career is meaningless when it comes to collecting pay checks. We are all healthy, have food to eat, a few gifts around the tree, family that loves us even when we think they don’t, friends that would come if we called, a new car and a car payment to go along with it, a small pile of bills and a smaller pile of money to pay them with—but pay them we are, slowly but surely.

We are looking forward to a new year, new beginnings, new outlooks. After all, when you’re near the bottom there’s only one way to go unless you start digging.

The moral of this story is that a lot folks just do not want to hear about all those great things you made up to make your family look awesome. This is a real world and the 50’s families are relics of the past.

Now, you understand why I never get around to writing hokey newsletters. I just find them way to depressing. Ha, I have probably depressed half of the free world already. Seriously though, Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Bah Humbug!

Check out Free Ebook: Thriving on Less – Simplifying in a Tough Economy

2009-11-03T07:06:00.002-06:00

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Off To the Principal's Office

2009-10-24T16:21:00.004-05:00

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?

2009-10-09T07:16:00.008-05:00

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

2009-09-27T15:06:00.005-05:00

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

2009-09-21T18:23:00.006-05:00

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....

2009-09-16T17:42:00.002-05:00

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!

2009-02-01T10:27:00.018-06:00

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

2009-01-27T19:46:00.004-06:00

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!

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

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!

2009-01-27T17:44:00.004-06:00

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!

2009-01-25T11:24:00.004-06:00

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

2009-01-17T18:14:00.003-06:00

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

2009-01-14T15:26:00.011-06:00

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!

2009-01-14T07:49:00.001-06:00

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

2009-01-01T11:04:00.004-06:00

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

2008-12-29T17:57:00.015-06:00

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!

2008-12-19T17:53:00.005-06:00

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

2008-12-09T08:29:00.003-06:00

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:

2008-11-30T15:27:00.002-06:00

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!

2008-11-29T12:19:00.002-06:00

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

2008-11-28T09:13:00.003-06:00

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

2008-11-26T08:58:00.002-06:00

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

2008-11-25T12:25:00.001-06:00

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

2008-11-20T08:49:00.007-06:00

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

2008-11-19T15:13:00.005-06:00

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

2008-11-19T15:01:00.005-06:00

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!

2008-11-09T13:28:00.001-06:00

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

2008-11-07T10:03:00.001-06:00

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

2008-11-04T14:08:00.005-06:00

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

2008-10-31T07:30:00.001-05:00

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

2008-10-30T10:05:00.000-05:00

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

2008-10-28T10:05:00.005-05:00

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

2008-10-26T09:55:00.003-05:00

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

2008-10-24T13:52:00.003-05:00

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

2008-10-24T09:56:00.001-05:00

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

2008-10-15T14:21:00.004-05:00

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

2008-10-15T11:47:00.001-05:00

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.

Full-Service Gas Stations

2008-10-09T14:00:00.003-05:00

Speaking of full-service stations.....

When I started attending college back in the late 80's full-service stations were everywhere. Not once, did I worry about my tires, water or oil being low because I went to a full-service station and they checked those items for me. I also didn't have to wash my windshield. I didn't even mind paying for the extra service as that meant that I didn't have to check the oil, tires and other stuff. Today, not so much. To my knowledge, the last full-service station in Hot Springs has died.

Last year I was traveling in north Arkansas and my check engine light came on. I was pretty sure it was because I needed to add oil but I hadn't been to my meeting yet and I didn't want to get dirty. It was a small town and I thought I would stop and ask if there was a full-service station anywhere. I walked into a convenience store to ask the clerk (who looked to be in her mid-twenties). The conversation went something like this:

Me: Excuse me, is there a full-service gas station around here?

Clerk: There's one right there (pointing outside)

Me: (while looking out the window) Where?

Clerk: Right there...you put gas in at the pump.

Me: OHHH, no I meant a full-service pump.

Clerk: It is full-service

Me: Oh, really you have a guy that services the cars?

Clerk: No, you do it yourself.

Me: Oh, uhh Ok. I meant do you have a gas station where there's a person who pumps your gas for you?

Clerk: I don't think so; but you can go down the block to that garage on the corner and ask them. Do they really do that?

Me: Yes, well they used to. Thanks for your help.

Seriously, I felt ancient after walking out of the store. The clerk was looking at me as if I were asking her for a water trough for the horse. All the baby boomers are getting old and while the price of gas and oil is all ready outrageous, I bet the boomers would pay that extra $ for full service. In an era of "do-it-yourselfer's" I really am a dinosaur.

Rolling, Rolling....

2008-10-08T13:29:00.005-05:00

Sunday afternoon I drove to Rison, AR to work on a project. Being me, I didn't check my gas tank before I left. By the time I reached Rison, I was beginning to wonder if I would pass a Shell station before running out of gas. Lucky for me, I made it all the way back to the White Hall / Sheridan exit to fill up. Gas was 42 cents more there than it was in Hot Springs....I should have remembered to get gas before I left.

I pulled into the Shell station next to a pump. I would have pulled into a Full-Service spot, but those are long gone. Anyhow, I pulled in and killed the car while digging around in my handbag for my debit/credit card. I finally found the card only to drop it in the floor on the passenger side of the car. While leaning over to pick up the card, I felt like I was moving. Raising up, I looked out the window. Lo and behold, I'm rolling backward. Slamming the brake to stop myself and looking at the gears to see what the problem was, I realized that I had turned the key off without putting the car in park. When I leaned over to pick up my card I must have moved my foot from the brake. At any rate, I started the car and pulled back up to the pump. I was feeling kind of sheepish and hoping that I hadn't been noticed. I'm not that lucky. The guy at the pump in front of me was quietly laughing. He told me he was going to holler at me before I rolled to far down the hill.

Sometimes, I amaze myself.

I Know Them!

2008-10-07T14:24:00.004-05:00

We all know somebody that knows everybody. Well, the person I know like that is my younger sister Tammy. She's known everybody since she was at least 6 years old.

After our dad was elected to pastor the church in De Queen and before we were able to move, we drove from Cave City to De Queen every weekend. It was a long drive for a kid and I'm sure it was even longer for our parents. Combine the trip with our having to stay with other people the entire weekend and you have a perfect recipe for fragile tempers.

Dad guest ministered at many churches and we always went with him. Consequently we knew a lot of people from all over the northern part of the state and Tammy knew most of them by name even as a child. She was about 8 or 9 when we moved. One Saturday we were driving to De Queen and were probably 2 or more hours from our house when Tammy hollered out, "Hey, I know them" and started waving at some people we were passing. My dad told her to stop waving and be quiet because she couldn't possibly know those people. Tammy, being Tammy, started to argue but Dad said, "Tammy Sue, shut up and be quiet." Like I mentioned earlier, all the traveling and moving stress was wearing on all of us.

Several miles passed by and I noticed Tammy was sitting on her side of the car crying. Big fat tears were running down her face. I tapped mom on the shoulder and pointed as I didn't want any attention drawn to myself. Mom turned around and asked Tammy what was wrong. With her voice all full of tears, Tammy said, "I get a headache when I can't talk." All of us just started laughing. If you know Tammy then you probably know that she doesn't ever have a headache from not talking!

That's not the end of the story. After traveling for some time, we had to stop for food, fuel, and bathroom. That truck full of people we had passed earlier was at the same store filling up their tank. When we pulled in beside them, the first thing they said was, "Hi, Tammy!" The look on my dad's face was priceless. We probably all looked a little shell shocked over the fact that Tammy really did know somebody several hours from our house.

Today, if Tammy says she knows somebody, we might look at her like she's crazy but we don't deny the fact that it's probably true.

I Don't Believe It!

2008-10-02T14:00:00.000-05:00

Have you ever done something so incredibly stupid or clumsy that you really didn't want anybody to know and yet you felt compelled to tell about it anyhow? I was in my early twenties when I enrolled at HSU. Although beauty wasn't in my future, I did still try to look my best. Passing pretty was a compliment to me. As every gal knows, looking your best includes all the basics like showering, fixing your hair, shaving unwanted hair, plucking eyebrows, all that girly stuff. I'm not an exception. I spent a great deal of time trying to look good. Sometimes I succeeded and sometimes I did not succeed.

Most weekends that first year of college saw me travelling home for good food, free laundry, and gas money. My dad would always say he was going to loan me the gas money. I was smarter than that; I would not take his money if he mentioned the word loan. It was give or nothing. One of the weekends I went home, my lip was kind of swollen. My mom and dad both asked me what happened to my lip. At first, I didn't tell them because it was kind of embarrassing. They kept on asking, sensing a good laugh. Eventually, I told them I had cut my lip while shaving my underarm. Their faces reflected utter disbelief. They were certain they had misunderstood me. They repeated their question and I repeated my answer while demonstrating.

Several minutes later, both my parents were wiping tears from their faces. They were still laughing so hard they couldn't even speak.

That's not the end of the story. Every date I had after that heard the story. My husband still volunteers this story at gatherings and just the other day my son felt the need to re-tell that same story. It has provided over 20 years of entertainment for our family and friends. I am no longer embarrassed by this deed. Today when the story is told I just laugh right along with the group and offer up a demonstration.

How To Cut Your Lip While Shaving Your Underarm:

Step 1: Lather your pit for shaving

Step 2: Run hot water over the razor

Step 3: Take razor in hand while lifting up arm

Step 4: While looking to make sure you "got it all" take an upward swipe with the razor. Don't pause in the upswing and you will cut your lip.

Step 5: DO NOT TELL ANYONE HOW YOU CUT YOUR LIP

Hope you all enjoyed this.

Bumper Cars

2008-10-02T09:56:00.004-05:00

During my lifetime, bumpers used to be made of durable metal. You could hit all kinds of things and never damage the bumper on the car. Today car bumpers are merely tools used to hide the nuts and bolts. They are easily damaged and expensive to replace.

That's my car pictured above. Notice the bumper. It has been crunched for over a year now. I am apparently going to drive this car for the remainder of its days with a crunched bumper. I know, I know, the car has almost 290 thousand miles on it and has been in numerous accidents and it's starting to show its age. Up until about 2 years ago my husband kept a spare bumper in the shed. He probably kept the spare bumper through 3 accidents before deciding it was a waste of money. That's why I now drive the car with that ugly bumper.

This last bumper was damaged when I was leaving a house. At the end of the driveway the family had fashioned a small platform out of concrete blocks. They were just stacked up and the intention was to have a tall container of flowers placed on the blocks. At the time I was at their house, they had not yet gotten the flowers out there. You can probably picture this in your mind. As I was backing out of the driveway, I could not see the blocks. I did, however, feel the impact as I backed right into them. Jumping out of my car, I ran back to look at my bumper while hoping that nothing happened. Upon seeing the crunch, I just turned to get back into the car. I didn't even want to call and tell my husband that yet another bumper was dead.

The moral of the story? If you happen to see me driving around, you might not want to be where I could back into you!

MOVING!

2008-10-01T11:14:00.002-05:00

Moving, yet again. I hate moving. I hate packing. I hate unpacking. I hate cleaning so I can move in and still having to clean so I can move out. I hate everything to do with moving except moving out of bug village. This time around while not enjoying the actual work, I am so pleased to move every single piece of my stuff. I have sprayed each box, each room each box goes into, empty boxes...you name it and I'm spraying it! I do not intend for the bugs to move with me. Please bear in mind that I'm not talking about regular bugs. No, these are huge alien bugs. They attack us in the middle of the night. Even the dogs are scared of them. Just a few more days and I will be far, far away from this particular alien life form.
Seriously though, moving is a huge chore. I've been cleaning out stuff to get rid of - I have almost as many "yard sale" boxes headed to the storage as I do regular boxes actually going to our house. I never knew how much stuff I had that I didn't need until a lot of it never got unpacked at the bug house. Why unpack something so it can be attacked....
A big plus to moving 3 times within a year is that even my kids are getting rid of stuff they have decided they no longer need. Guess they got tired of packing it all up. :-) Gotta love the silver lining....
Now, if I could just get my landlord to be reasonable. Apparently my lease went through the end of October instead of the beginning of October. Never mind that I gave them 45 days verbal notice and 30 days written notice...they are screaming broken contract. I actually find that quite funny considering that my lease said they would repair damages and the window has been broken ever since I moved in; the roof started leaking about a month ago and still leaks; they only sprayed for alien bugs prior to my moving in, they have shown up unannounced to cut trees (common courtesy says call to let me know they will be there) not to mention my right to quiet enjoyment of my property. That all ads up to stress. Finally, after an hour long conversation, we (the landlord and I) agreed that I would leave the house just as I found it. From my perspective it was un-mowed and dirty. From his perspective it was partially mowed and he gave me dollars off the rent to clean and mow. I offered to let him keep my deposit and get the yard mowed. He wants to take the deposit because I'm vacating early and charge me for mowing and partial months rent. We finally agreed to disagree on who violated the lease agreement.
Bottom line is we are out of there by this Saturday. Good luck to the new tenants. They have to have thick skin to deal with the aliens.

OOPS!

2008-09-30T11:30:00.000-05:00

My dad was the youngest son in a family of six kids. He had no choice but to grow up defending himself. He's often told us stories that happened to him as a kid and we always enjoyed hearing them. One of my favorite stories involved eggs and this is the best I can remember it....

It was getting to be dusk and the chickens lived through the woods from the house. One of my dad's jobs was to collect the eggs each evening. He usually tried to get done before dark. This one day he didn't make it. As he was coming back from the chicken coop slowly carrying the eggs in his hands, one of his sisters jumped out and scared him.

He began running toward the house as fast as he could. After walking inside, all he had were broken eggs. Did his sister get in trouble for scaring him? Noooo, dad got a spanking for breaking all the eggs.

IKE and Cleaning UP

2008-09-19T11:23:00.005-05:00

Gustave and Ike both took down several trees at our house (the one we are renting pictured above). Toby and I are both excited that we don't have to clean them up! In addition, I've discovered FreeCycle... a Yahoo group that allows you to give away stuff you don't want or in my case don't want to move! I hear you....what does that have to do with Gustave, Ike and trees in my yard? Actually nothing. BUT, I do have some old firewood that I was going to have to haul off at our house (the one we're moving back into) and thanks to FreeCycle, I don't have to clean that up either!

Here's the trees that blew over - leaving us without electric for a few days!

Ripe Cantaloupe

2008-09-19T09:42:00.001-05:00

When buying cantaloupes I always do the "scratch and sniff" test. Usually when I get home and cut the melon open I find that scratching and sniffing didn't work for me. The melon is never ripe enough. Still, I persist in scratching and sniffing.

A few days ago, while shopping at Kroger, I was picking up several melons and going through the "scratch-n-sniff" routine. After a few minutes, I noticed a lady in a wheelchair looking at me. I smiled and said hi to her and continued scratching and sniffing. Finally she got my attention and said, "Do you want to know how to tell if these are ripe or not?" Naturally, I said yes.

She picked up a melon, held it next to her head and shook the fire out of it. Then she asked me to bend down and listen while she shook it. Doing so, I heard it rattling like it had marbles inside. She told me that the rattling noise was the seeds shaking. If you can hear them shake, then the melon will be ripe.

Guess what...when I got home...ripe melon! WoW! Next time you see me buying cantaloupe at Kroger I'll be shaking the melons instead of scratch-n-sniff!

...Bites the dust!

2008-09-19T08:01:00.000-05:00

Finally my knee is healing and my arm is beginning to move easier. I can't believe that once again I fell down. Leon, a gentleman I work with, said he saw me running in the rain and when I got up to the building I just disappeared.

Ha! By disappearing he really meant that I hit the ground running...literally. I skinned my knee and palm of my hand. The next day I realized I also jammed my arm into my shoulder or something. 40+ is too old to be falling. You'd think by now that I had my land legs....

If I had a dime for every clumsy thing I've done during my life, I could retire in style!

The picture didn't come out that great, but that's my skinned knee.

Victory March

2008-09-05T14:25:00.007-05:00

I believe in healing. I've seen things happen that were not physically possible. Most of those things have always happened to other people and while I received a tributary blessing from those miracles, they did not actually happen to me.

Growing up in a church that actively taught the reality of Jesus Christ and his teachings, I have been anointed and prayed for many times. As a child, this happened because my parents told me to get prayed for and they believed in faith healing. A result of being healed of minor things (fevers, rashes, headaches, etc.) my own faith grew. As a teenager, I refused to get anointed and prayed for unless I firmly believed that I was going to be better. That would be similar to cutting off your nose to spite you face; never the less, it was how I felt and I never got prayed for that I did not receive the answer I needed.

Looking back, that was totally opposite of how the Bible teaches healing. Not one time in the scripture did Jesus heal somebody that they did not receive forgiveness in conjunction with their healing. Feeling unworthy or not "ready" to receive a healing probably cost me more than just pain and suffering from being sick.

Now, on to my reason for writing today. In 1992 I gave birth to my daughter. For an entire six months after that I had problems. The doctor gave me multiple hormone shots, had me taking vitamins and other measures trying to stop the problem. Finally, I was told that I would have to have a D and C procedure. This not only terrified me knowing it was a minor surgery and I'm a needle-aphobic, it also caused me to have serious issues with depression and self-esteem.

At the time of this malady, we were attending church on Hobson Street in Hot Springs, AR. As usual, we were sitting on the front row and the service while moving was quiet. Everybody was standing up and I felt something telling me to walk around the church with my hands lifted and I would receive my healing. Since it wasn't a "shouting" service, I didn't really want to do that so I continued to stand in place. A few minutes later, I noticed a man on the 3rd pew in the 2nd section getting out into the aisle. I again felt that I should walk around the church with my hands raised to receive my healing and that if I didn't, then my healing would go to somebody else. After only a few moments of hesitancy, I started walking down the aisle but I didn't raise my hands until I got all the way to the back of the church. After raising my hands and continuing to walk, I felt a warm energy over me and I started thanking the lord for my healing. I have to admit that at that particular moment I didn't really think I was healed.

Two or three days later, I noticed I was no longer bleeding and that I had more energy. Truly God blessed and healed my body that night. Since then, I try to listen for those still small voices. Hopefully, this has encouraged somebody else to take that step of faith in their life.

Gustave...

2008-09-05T10:10:00.005-05:00

WoW! Gustave sent us a ton of rain. We were without power for almost 2 days. That translates into no Internet, no TV, no PlayStation, no cooked meals....and worst of all cold showers! Fortunately, we were able to get all 3 acres of our yard mowed before the biggest portion of the rain...if we are lucky, we will not have to mow again before we move.

There were some really high winds. Two large trees were uprooted and the flag pole was blown down. Believe it or not, I slept through the entire thing!

We are in the process of moving back to our home we were selling. Due to Gustave, Entergy is at least 20 business days out for turning on the electric there. What a bummer! I will be so glad to move back in. I have decided that the rent house we are currently living in is the portal from Starship Troopers 3....trust me alien bugs are not to be messed with! Add that to the fact that the roof leaks, the road noise is at decimal well beyond safety levels....I think you get the picture.

Life has been relatively good lately. Toby and I are both working for the same company so that makes it easy on the transportation. Tia is playing volleyball for Lakeside School district and is the captain on her team. Raylee is attending BCA his senior year of high school and playing basketball.

Sooner or later the sky will be sunny and blue again. Hope to post more later as I have several new "stories" to add. Since I'm getting old, it sometimes takes awhile to remember what I want to say.

Be blessed, think positive thoughts and go through the day happy -- it's your choice.

There's Only One

2008-08-26T08:21:00.001-05:00

Several years ago I applied for a job at Church of the Rock in Little Rock, AR. It was a nice job with good pay and benefits. In addition, many of the employees were "Christians" and would be more pleasant to work around.

One of the documents that was given to me to sign before being hired was a Faith Statement. Overall, the one page document was straight-forward and I didn't see any reason not to sign it even though I would never be attending their church. As I got near the end of the page one of the last few statements stated something to the effect that I agreed that the Trinity was real and that the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost were separate entities. I mulled this statement over in my mind for sometime trying to determine if I could sign this document without comprising my teaching. Finally, I decided to ask my pastor's wife what she thought and if we could somehow interpret the statement so I could sign it.

After a few days, I spoke with my pastor's wife again and we talked about how the statement was worded. She did not see anyway I could sign it without comprising my own position. In order to complete my application, I scratched out the trinity line and wrote in that I believed in the oneness of the Godhead. I did not receive that job nor did I get a 3rd interview.

My family started attending a "Jesus Name" church when I was 12 and I had received the gift of the holy ghost by age 14. I knew from teachings of the church that "these three are one." Although I believed this with all my heart and I could see it in the bible, I had never had a revelation of my own that this was true.

A few weeks after applying for this job we were singing an old song in the choir on Hobson street. He's My Rock. As we were singing this song that we had sang any number of times, I felt God reveal the oneness to me, personally. Every time we sang "and Jesus is his name," I felt as if I had touched an open electrical outlet. I began shouting and praising the Lord as I felt him revealing his oneness and deity to me personally. Oddly enough, this was not a "shouting" service and the entire house didn't come down. God specifically showed me that I was his child and had taken his name.

To God be the glory!

2008-08-19T09:53:00.002-05:00

It's raining outside. For some reason today, the rain has made me think of an old Amy Grant song that I used to spend hours playing on the piano --it always sounded melancholy to me and fits my mood today perfectly. "Raining On The Inside" Here are the lyrics - enjoy them!

When all goodbyes are said and done And nighttime finds you home Are you alright to spend a night Of being all alone Or do you hide between the lines Of conversations past A wall of words, a heart unheard That hides behind a mask

[Chorus:]I'm raining on the inside My heart wells up with tears that start to pour I'm raining on the inside But Your cries of love break through And I fall in love with You once more

When friends who care can't be there To ease away my pain And peace of mind is hard to find Like sunlight in the rain God sees my heart, the deepest part Inside this lonely me And reachin' in, His love begins To heal the heart in me

TIMBER!

2008-08-15T14:04:00.001-05:00

A few months after Toby and I moved into our house on Dollie Street, Toby decided that we should cut down all the pine trees in the yard. We had a company come in an cut most of the pine, but there were a few of them they didn't want to mess with or that were not in a area they could get their machinery to easily. Being the handy folks we are, we thought we could easily handle the few smaller trees. Overall, the project went smoothly. We were tired and cranky and had a lot of brush to clean up, but our yard was beginning to take shape.

There was one really tall skinny pine in the back yard. Toby and I looked at it and debated whether or not it was going to fall toward the house. My thoughts were it would hit the house and we should just leave it alone until we could use a winch to pull it. Toby decided it would miss the house. He asked me to get on the house side of the tree and push away from the house while he cut a wedge shape into the side so it would fall down hill.

Toby began cutting while I was pushing this 60' tall tree with all my might. The entire time he's cutting I am mouthing about how insane this was because this tree was going to hit the house. Suddenly, Toby yells, "Every man for himself" and takes off running! Within a few seconds, I too started running. The tree was falling toward the house. Luckily, it hit the old deck and not the house.

Every man for himself, indeed.

Some Things Never Change....

2008-08-14T14:36:00.005-05:00

Special Memories

2008-08-14T11:17:00.000-05:00

Raylee was often in trouble at school for fighting. Some days I dreaded for the phone to ring knowing it was yet another call from a teacher. He wasn't a bad boy. Quite the contrary, he was usually fighting because the other students were picking on a less fortunate child.

One particular time I remember was when a handicapped child was being bullied on the playground. Raylee and another boy got into a tussle and both were pulled into the office. Both got into the same amount of trouble since the rules clearly stated no fighting. Both sets of parents were called. I, upon hearing that Raylee was actually taking up for the other child, told the school they could punish Raylee for violating the "no fighting" rule but that I would not be following through with additional reprimands as I thought it was great that a 4th grade child already had the ability to empathise and defend his position.

The rule at our house if you got into trouble at school, you got into trouble at home. Knowing Raylee was worried about coming home that afternoon, I made sure he had a nice snack waiting on him and talked to him about fighting. I explained that it was great that he took up for his friend and I was proud of him for doing that; however, if there is a problem at school he should go tell the teacher first so he wouldn't get into trouble.

I think his biggest relief was that he didn't get into trouble at home. I am glad to say he still takes up for the underdog and while he is high-spirited and loves to tease; he's always kind to those less fortunate.

Squirrel Food

2008-08-13T10:30:00.001-05:00

When the children were in kindergarten and first grade, we lived in a small community outside Little Rock, AR. It was a country type setting and we often enjoyed the birds and squirrels. On our front porch we had the feeder and many squirrels happily partook of its offerings. Most of the time we filled the feeder with an animal feed that consisted of dried corn, peanuts and other types of seed.

One day, as I was cleaning house, Raylee and Tia were out in the yard playing with a few of the neighborhood children. As children do, they were running and yelling and having a good time. I was keeping half of an eye and ear on them just in case. I noticed it had gotten quiet outside so I went to the front door to check on them.

What a sight! All of the children were sitting around the squirrel feeder having a snack! I had them quit eating the squirrel food and get back to playing, but not without enjoying a tiny moment of innocence.

The Bloody Knife

2008-08-11T13:00:00.001-05:00

To my knowledge, the first home my parents purchased was in Cave City, Arkansas. It was a grey rock home that they put a lot of love and care into. We must have moved into that house around 1973.

One day, mom was outside her bedroom window doing some prep work so my dad could install rock around the window trim. She was outside working and the window was open. Tammy and I were in the kitchen fixing Kool-Aid (adding water and sugar). That day, we were having red Kool-Aid. Tammy liked to lick the Kool-Aid powder so we usually would pour a little into her hand.

Being the nice sister I was (no sarcasm intended), I gave her a little of the red Kool-Aid powder into her hand and she started licking it, causing her hand to turn red. Light Bulb!

I decided to play a trick on mom and without telling Tammy anything, I gave her the big butcher knife my dad kept in one of the kitchen drawers and told her to take it to mom.

A few minutes later, I heard my mom screaming. Wow, worked better than I thought it would, she rushed into the house and grabbed Tammy, who had no clue what was happening. It took my mom a few minutes to determine Tammy hadn't cut herself with the butcher knife.

My mom was so upset, she couldn't even punish me. The only thing she said, with her finger pointing right in my face was, "You're dad will take care of you when he gets home!"

This was one of the few times my dad didn't punish me. Maybe he thought it was funny also.

High Heels

2008-08-08T12:00:00.001-05:00

I remember my first pair of "high" heel shoes. They were Candies way back before Candie was a big name in the industry. I didn't get them until I was 16 as my parents had a 16-year old rule for everything from shaving legs to heels to dating and beyond. I spent many shopping expeditions telling my parents I would be glad when I turned 18 and could pick out my own things!

Those shoes were so beautiful to me. To be truthful, they really weren't that high, maybe 2-2 1/2" . Platform style shoes that had a strap across the toe area and no straps on the heel or ankle.

Not long after we purchased them, Mom and I went to a department store. It was a Five and Dime or Ben Franklins type store with hardwood floors. Walking on those floors with heels created such a satisfying sound. I felt quite grown-up.

As we were walking down one of the aisles, I fell down and landed on all fours. Naturally, I jumped up and tried to look cool and collected as if nothing had happened. One elderly gentleman passing by made an audible comment, "Them high heels done it again." Needless to say, I was embarrassed and to top it all off, my Mom just walked off and acted like she didn't even know me!

In spite of the accident, I wore those shoes for a very long time. Some people remember their first love with fondness....I remember my first pair of high heeled shoes!

Go Reddies!

2008-07-31T15:57:00.004-05:00

Finally, I have some personal good news to report. As you may or may not know, I attended Henderson State University but did not complete all my hours to earn my B.S. degree. I did manage to "lock in" my hours by graduating with my A.A. degree; however, I have always regretted not completing my studies.

Through the years, I have taken many other classes and been certified to do other things in different fields, but still it was always in the back of my mind that I didn't finish what I had started. Back then getting married seemed way more important than getting that degree. But again, regret was always just a whisper away.

About 5 years ago, I decided to contact the school about graduating with a General Studies degree. It was something that I had seen on television and I thought it might be a way for me to complete my studies without having to start all over. Unfortunately, not enough hours would transfer to UALR and HSU didn't yet offer the degree. I was back to the drawing board without any options.

The good news is HSU has recently implemented a General Studies Undergraduate program. I have enough hours to graduate as long as I complete their minimum credit hour requirement after declaring my major. It looks like that whisper of regret is about to become a thing of the past.

Finally, I can make my parents proud and do something I've wanted to do for a long time. Some things are looking up!

Empty Nest

2008-07-29T09:46:00.004-05:00

I spent a great deal of Saturday teary-eyed. I was going through old photos and working on scanning and sorting, reading the kids school journals from grade school and it totally depressed me.

They were such cute kids. Don't get me wrong, they got on my nerves plenty; but they were mine and I loved them so much. It kills me that they are growing up and leading their own lives. Raylee is almost 18 and although he doesn't have the life experience, he's basically a man. One with his own thoughts and agenda. He's rarely at home and it breaks my heart that he's not my "little" boy anymore.

Tia has turned into a beautiful girl. She's so pretty. She's also 16 (in Aug) and full of 16-year old attitude. She has no idea how much I love her.

At an early age I had my life totally planned out. It didn't include kids or living in Arkansas or struggling to make ends meet or a host of other things. But life has a way of not following a plan. As John Donne once said, "No man is an island" and even though that was written many many years ago, it is true.

Empty nest. My little birds are beginning to fly on their own and they don't want or need my help. After being "needed" for so many years and wishing I could do whatever I wanted, now that my time in life is here....I don't want it. I want them to need me because I need them.

We used to have a poem back in high school. If you love something, set it free. Truly much easier said than done.

Get A Light - On the Rocks

2008-07-28T19:21:00.000-05:00

Many years ago I worked for an attorney in Sevier County. I was young and naive. Raised in a church oriented family (my dad was a preacher), I had very little actual knowledge of the world. We didn't have television and the only "news" I read was the comic section. Consequently, I did not know about a lot of things.

One day the attorney I was working for buzzed me on the intercom and asked me to bring him a light. Hanging up the phone, I looked around the office and the storage room but couldn't find any flashlights. I did find a small lamp that could be easily carried and took it to the back office. Walking into his office, I asked him if this light would work.

He looked at me like I was a crazy person; holding up his cigar he said I need a light, go get some matches or something.

Feeling like a fool, I left the office and ran across the street to the drugstore to purchase matches.

Unfortunately for me, that was not the only time I had a social faux paux while working for him.

On secretary's day he took me to the local country club for lunch. The waitress came up and asked me what I wanted to drink and I said a coke would be fine. The waitress then asked me if I wanted that on the rocks. Not knowing what "on the rocks" was, I said no thank you. Mr. May spoke up and said yes she does. Since I didn't drink and I was at a country club, I was afraid to drink my coke without knowing what "on the rocks" really was -- it's a good thing they also served water!

After getting home, I asked my dad what "on the rocks" meant. We all had a good laugh after he told me it meant coke with ice.

Love

2008-07-28T10:56:00.000-05:00

You have to love yourself before you can love others.

Silent Killer

2008-07-27T19:18:00.000-05:00

I was 12 years old when my Grandma Hobbs died. I don't remember a lot about her, but she was kind of fat and soft when you hugged her and not so tall. One day she fell down the back door steps and broke her arm. It wasn't too long after that she passed away. For many years, I thought she had died of a broken arm.

Some years later, I learned that she had cancer that had gone undetected until she broke her arm. Cancer is a horrible thing. We've lost several family members on my dad's side of the family due to cancer of one kind of another. One day you have a healthy family member who goes to the doctor for something minor and then bang...a few months later they've died of cancer.

Silence speaks louder than words. Cancer is a silent deadly killer of loved ones. As each one of us grows older we realize that life is precious and not to be taken for granted. Encourage your loved ones to be pro-active about their health and well being. It could mean the difference between life and death.

Dear God...

2008-07-21T18:00:00.001-05:00

Raylee and Tia were small when we lived on Summer street. They were both still small enough to believe everything they were told.

We had a white refrigerator with several decorative magnets stuck to the surface. One evening as I was getting ready to fix supper I noticed black marks all over the refrigerator. Upon closer examination, I realized the marks were from the magnets being "driven" around in circles. I was sure that one of the children had done this mischief, so I called them into the kitchen and asked them who made the marks on the refrigerator.

Naturally, they both said they didn't do it. I was expecting that response and had a plan in place. I told them OK I believed them but I knew somebody had made the marks and that person needed to be punished. Since they didn't know who had made the marks and I didn't know who had made the marks, I told them I knew somebody who would have the answer.

Both children and myself went into the living room and I had them kneel down at the couch so we could ask God who made the marks. I let the children know that God knows everything and he doesn't like lying. As we were kneeling together, I prayed and asked God to please tell me who had marked on the fridge so I would not punish the wrong person.

At this point, my small 3 year old son spoke out, "Momma, please don't spank me."

Truly, God knows all things. :-)

Boo!

2008-07-21T15:55:00.005-05:00

Nancy was only 3-years old when our family moved to De Queen, AR. Prior to that, we had lived in Sharp County, a rural area that was farming country and primarily white population almost 30 years ago.

Our move to De Queen was, for the most part, uneventful. Coming from our town, it was huge--approximately 5,000 people. One of the first few days we were there, we went into the local KFC to have some dinner. We were sitting in our booth enjoying the rare treat of eating out. Patrons were steadily coming and going although the lobby was not full.

Nan was sitting on a booster seat facing away from the door. Being a curious friendly child, she spent a great deal of time peaking around the edge of her seat to see what was going on behind her. Suddenly, we heard her raise her voice and say, "BOO!" Turning to see what was going on, we realized she had seen her first African-American.

Needless to say, we finished our meal and our parents hurried us out of KFC while apologizing to the gentleman for the social blunder. He gracefully accepted our apology and spoke kindly to Nan.

Don't Cut It Off

2008-07-21T12:05:00.002-05:00

Sixth grade was an awkward time for me. I wasn't pretty, popular or athletic; but had somehow gotten the "smart" label. In actuality I was just an average child with average grades who liked to read and write. My sixth grade teacher at Cave City was Ms. Elsie. She wasn't very tall and seemed incredibly old to me. She always read a chapter at the end of each day to the class. This was one of my most enjoyable times of each day as I couldn't wait to hear what happened next. Along with encouraging reading, she also required students to write stories or reports and read them to the class.

It was almost my turn to get up to read my report on this particular day. I was fairly nervous and had one of those old clipboards with the metal clips and hole for hanging. I was sitting in my desk sliding my finger in and out of the hole. All at once, my finger got stuck. I tugged and pulled to no avail. My finger was swelling and I couldn't get it out. I sat on the clipboard while trying to yank my finger out of the hole.

Ms. Elsie called my name to come to the front of the class. Since my finger was stuck, I took my paper and put it on my clipboard to carry with me. As I was starting to read my report, Ms. Elsie told me to put my clipboard away. I just looked at her and said, "I can't." She again told me to put it away and to just hold my paper. Starting to tear up, I told her that my finger was stuck. She got up out of her chair and walked over to me. I was shaking and almost crying. She looked at my finger and told me to go to the sink and put a lot of soap on my finger to see if I could get it out of the clipboard. She tried Vaseline, soap, squeezing my finger nothing worked. Eventually, she called Mr. Foley, our ancient custodian, to come to our classroom.

Mr. Foley examined my finger and said, "We'll have to cut it off."

I was hysterical. I started screaming and really crying, "NO, NO, don't cut it off," while clutching the clipboard to my chest and wildly looking around to find an escape route. Ms. Elsie and Mr. Foley were just looking at me. Finally, Mr. Foley said, "We are just going to cut the end of the clipboard."

It took me a few moments to process what he was saying. I started breathing easier and calmed down a bit before clarifying his comment. "So, you're not going to cut off my finger?"

I have to admit, I've never stuck my finger into a clipboard hole again.

Change!!!!!!!

2008-07-20T11:10:00.005-05:00

I received this and it says a lot about the way I think also.

*All the politicians running for president are promising change to the American people. We send them billions and billions of tax dollars and they send us the change. Funny? Not really; there is too much truth in it to be funny.
*That got me to thinking .. they all promise change. How about if they run on a promise of restoration rather than change. A restoration that would take us back in time to a place where things ran better,smoother and life was more enjoyable.
*Change? That, in truth, is what they have been giving us all along.
*We used to have a strong dollar .. politicians changed that. Life used to be sacred ... politicians changed that. Marriage used to be sacred ... politicians are changing that. We used to be respected around the world ..politicians changed that. We used to have a strong manufacturing economy ...politicians changed that. We used to have lower tax structures ... politicians changed that. We used to enjoy more freedoms ... politicians changed that. We used to be a large exporter of American made goods... politicians changed that. We used to be an openly Christian nation ....politicians changed that. We used to teach patriotism in schools .. politicians changed that. We used to educate children in schools .. politicians changed that. We used to enjoy freedom of speech . ..politicians changed that. We used to have affordable food and gas prices...politicians changed that, too. ...and one could go on and on with this list.
*What hasn't been changed, politicians are promising to change that as well if you will elect them. When, oh when, is America going to sit back with open eyes and look at what we once were and where we have come and say, enough is enough?
*The trouble is, America's youthful voters today don't know of the great America that existed forty and fifty years ago. They see the world as if it has always existed, as it is now. When will we wake up? Tomorrow may be too late.
*When will America realize ... Politicians are what is wrong with America?
*There is a big difference between a politician and a statesman.

Purple, Green and Yellow Face

2008-07-15T23:04:00.000-05:00

In the 4th grade I was somewhat of a jump rope champion among my friends. We would jump rope every day during recess. Most of the time we switched off jumping and turning the rope while chanting rhymes that dictated the style of the jump.

Our school had a wide covered concrete walkway that was perfect for jumping rope and we took full advantage of it. Some or our more favorite jumps included running in jumping and running out. Several of us girls would form a line and play "follow the leader" while jumping and doing tricks such as bending to touch the floor or turns and a variety of other moves. Of course, if you missed you had to take your turn throwing the rope.

We were playing "follow the leader" during recess one afternoon and I was next to jump. The girl in front of me tripped the rope causing it to falter as I ran in. This, in turn, made me trip and fall on the rope as I was running out. SMACK! I hit the concrete hard. It was so fast I don't even think I managed to register any pain before the girl jumping behind me also fell. SMACK! As she fell onto me, I hit the concrete again.

Come to find out, I had broken my nose playing jump rope. As my face begin to swell, I finally started feeling the excruciating pain. My parents took me to the doctor after school; but they said they couldn't do anything for a broken nose and eventually, the swelling would subside.

As the bruise started fading some time later, you could could see that the swelling had affected my entire face....even my ears had that slight yellowish tint from the bruising.

Years later, after much sinus problems and breathing noises, I was able to have that broken nose repaired. Today, I can actually breath and rarely make those horrible snorting noises.

Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and... you have to blow your nose.

4th Grade Prank

2008-07-15T12:05:00.004-05:00

Even though I was a model child, I occasionally got into trouble. Not so much trouble at home since I was afraid of the consequences, but I did manage to be quite mischievous at school.

One of my favorite grades was 4th grade. Mr. Goodwin was our teacher. It was his first year of teaching and he was so blessed to have me in his classroom. He had this old desk that went almost all the way to the floor on the front. It was so low you could barely see his feet underneath.

I came in from recess one day a few minutes early and crawled under his desk. It was very roomy. After a while, he came into the class room and sat down. I very carefully tied his laces together. Apparently he felt the motion or realized something was wrong but not before I finished getting them tied. He pushed back his chair to look under the desk. I was sitting there big eyed, grinning. He stood up, falling and catching himself on his desk. It was great and scary all at the same time.

After he fixed his shoe laces, he picked up the paddle. Back then teachers were allowed to paddle their own students for misbehavior. He told me to go into the restroom so he would not have to paddle me in front of the class.

Shaking and nervous I went into the restroom. I knew it was going to hurt but somehow thought it was worth the enjoyment. Mr. Goodwin told me that was not an appropriate prank to play on a teacher and told me that if I ever told anybody in the class that he did not paddle me I would be in a lot more trouble. With that, he slapped the paddle on his leg and sent me back into the classroom.

Fortunately, I was scared enough that I did not reenter the room smiling and smart enough to keep it to myself that I did not really get in trouble for that awesome 4th grade prank.

Never Call an Ambulance!

2008-07-15T11:52:00.002-05:00

My family was thrifty as I was growing up. My mom made the majority of the clothes for my sisters and I. We "saved" the milk for the baby, had a large garden to supplement the groceries and went to the doctor only as a necessity. Dad often said we were never to call an ambulance as he could drive us to the hospital faster and he wasn't going to pay all that money for them to come and pick us up. Part of being thrifty....

After we moved to De Queen, my sister Tammy had to have her tonsils removed. It was a successful surgery and mom and dad decided to leave me at home with her while they attended some ministers meeting. I had my orders which were to basically wait on Tammy, keep her supplied with ice cream and make her stay in bed. Easy enough. I was 17 years old and this would be a cake walk.

During the evening Tammy started coughing and coughing. She coughed so much she was coughing up blood. I got her a small salad bowl to hold and spit the blood into. After a bit, it was at least half full. I kept trying to call my parents to see what I was supposed to do and thinking she needed to go to the doctor but I knew I was NOT supposed to call an ambulance. That was an unnecessary expense. Tammy continued coughing and I was praying and worrying thinking she was going to die while I was home alone with her.

Mom and Dad eventually came home and they took Tammy to the doctor. She had broken one of her stitches coughing. They fixed her up and sent her back home. I was glad she was all right and I wasn't in trouble. After all, I saved them the ambulance fee -- just like I was told.

I don't recall my parents ever telling me or my siblings never to call an ambulance after that incident. :-)

Prayers of Children

2008-07-14T13:42:00.002-05:00

Driving well has never been one of my strong points. Clearly God has watched over me many times while on the road.

When Nancy was small, I would take her with me all the time. One day we were driving around and I took her to a cemetery. (I've always liked reading the inscriptions and viewing unusual grave stones). While we were at the cemetery I backed over an area that was soft and my car got stuck. I really didn't want to call my dad and tell him we were stuck in a cemetery so I was trying my best to get some traction and pull out.

Meanwhile, Nancy got into the back seat and said a very simple prayer to the effect of please Lord let us get out of the grave. Gunning the gas, the wheels gave a big spin and we were free.

Never discount the power of a child's faith.

Barbies

2008-07-11T10:15:00.004-05:00

As a child I loved Barbie dolls and all the paraphenilia that came along with them. My parents purchased dolls, houses, cars, vans and my mom made tons of barbie clothes each year for Christmas. I could play with them for hours on end.

Eventually, I became too old to play with the dolls and they were put away. The year I turned 16 my friend Cammy and I got out all the dolls and played (dressed them up and fixed their hair) with them one last time. Sure we were "too old" to play with dolls but it was fun.

During this same time, my sister Tammy (who only liked to play with trucks and Tonker toys) begged to play with all my barbies and toys. My mom got them all down and gave them to Tammy who is 6 years younger than I am so she would have been around 10 years old then. While I no longer wanted to play with the dolls, I did want to keep them. However, that was not to happen. After Tammy got all the barbies and clothes, she chewed off their toes and fingers, cut their hair, ripped off their heads, ran over them with Tonker trucks, let them play in the sand and generally mutilated all the barbies.

Gotta love younger sisters! If you know Tammy... :-)

You Ran Into What?

2008-07-10T15:33:00.002-05:00

I was around 9 years old when my Mom had a fireworks stand out in front of our house. I don't remember much about the stand but after it was all said and done, I got a brand new bicycle. It was purple, had a banana seat, a nice white basket with flowers on it. I thought it was beautiful. I rode it very carefully so I wouldn't mess it up. In retrospect, I probably spent more time pushing the bike rather than riding it. I wasn't very athletic and hills and rocks weren't on my personal list of safe riding spots.

I was allowed to ride my bike to the library back then. The basket was so great, it could hold several books at once. Much better than walking and carrying the books back and it allowed me to check out more books at once. Never mind that I still pushed the bike up almost all the small hills.

One day as I was going to the library I had reached a spot where I could coast downhill. It felt so good to rest my legs and feel the wind in my face. I could even practice "no hands" on this particular hill. As my luck would have it, there was a school bus parked on the side of the street. Being me, I did managed to get over far enough to just side swipe the entire side of the bright yellow parked bus on my way down the hill.

Foreshadowing of things to come... :-)

I Have a Certificate

2008-07-10T15:23:00.003-05:00

Toby and I have been married 18 years now. Eighteen years of ups and downs. Some of them more memorable than others. One of the funniest things I remember was way back in the beginning......

We were fighting about something (can't remember what) and it was getting verbally heated. We were both mad and probably well on the way to saying something that could not be retracted. After all, once spoken you can never take it back. Amidst all the arguing Toby called me stupid. I fired right back "Yes I am and I have a certificate to prove it!" He looked at me oddly asking, "What? What certificate?" I answered with, "My marriage certificate."

With that, we both started laughing uncontrollably. It's been a standard comment in our home now for many years.....and one that always brings a smile.

Idle Chit Chat

2008-07-10T12:45:00.005-05:00

There are so many things I hope to be able to talk about on this blog site. I started it in an effort to preserve memories I have of my children, family and friends. That is still my main goal. However, I also hope to use it to entertain, encourage and critique my own self. If that ends up entertaining and encouraging others, then I will be satisfied.
I am living life more simply now. Don't get me wrong: there are bills to pay, obligations to keep, choices that have to be made. But overall, a lot of things have been cut out of my life. There is no longer room in my life for drama. The people who cause drama don't get to talk to me anymore. I am slowly getting rid of things in my life that cause me stress and I'm trying to adjust to being who I really am instead of the person I think it was expected that I be. Good, bad, or ugly. Just me. Some things really really don't matter. Make a list of things in your life. Number them in order of importance and the last one, just scratch off. Over time you will find out who you are and leave behind who you thought you had to be.

I Didn't Do It

2008-07-09T15:26:00.002-05:00

Laughter is the best medicine.

My great grandmother came to visit us when we lived in Cave City. I don't remember the year but it was before I was 12 years old. I also don't remember the incident; however, I do recall that my grandmother was lying on the couch in our living room. My mom and I were also in the living room.

My mom got on to me for something and slapped me. I turned around to her and said, "I didn't do that!" Mom asked me if I wanted her to take it back. Of course, I said sure--after all who wants to get in trouble for something that they didn't do. Right out of the clear blue sky my mom slapped me again while saying, "there, I took it back."

I do not believe I have ever seen my grandma laugh so hard in my lifetime.

Spankings

2008-07-09T15:19:00.002-05:00

There aren't a lot of things I remember as a child, but I do have a few specific memories. This one was before my family started going to a Pentecostal church. I remember being spanked by my dad when I was about 9 years old or so. He would make us bend over the couch to whip us. Naturally, I didn't want to be spanked so I would jump around so he would miss me. Hey, I was 9 ish.....

One day he spanked me for something I probably didn't do to begin with (I was a perfect child) and I started hopping and jumping around. He grabbed my arm which only made us go in circles. I'm assuming around this time that my dad got annoyed. He reached down and grabbed my ankles in one of his hands turning me upside down to complete my spanking. Needless to say, I don't remember jumping or hopping around at punishment time after that incident.

Remember, spare the rod and spoil the child....