I Am Inspired!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Pinteret.  I hate Pinterest.  No, I love Pinterest.  Needless to say, I do spend a lot of time being Pinterest inspired.  Translation:  I spend TOO much time on Pinterest, but I love being inspired--hence the love/hate relationship.  Pinterest makes me want to:

Use Coconut Oil on my cellulite.  I have been promised it works.  I even checked the price of coconut oil yesterday, but walked away at the $6 price tag, but wait, $6 is a small amount to pay to have swimsuit worthy legs, huh?

Make a flower pot out of ice cream sticks.
Make butterflies out of magazine pages.
Grow beets.  I hate beets. 
Travel to India.
Make my own tomato cages out of twigs.
Paint my front door purple.
Grow chickens.
Make a car cover.
Ride an elephant.
Make my own deodorant, dish washing soap, laundry detergent, and body scrub from ground egg shells and egg whites.
Roast kale chips.
Try a detox.
Get a tattoo on my left side.
Make mirrors from old tennis rackets.
Get married again.
Get a goat.
Make a fire pit.
Remodel the house.
Make a necklace out of my old t-shirt.
Make my own jewelry.
Reupholster the couch.
Paint a rug.
Recycle a lamp shade into a flower pot.
Make a lamp shade from a flower pot.
Make a kite from plastic tablecloths.
Make tablecloths from old kites.
French braid my hair.
Glue glitter to my shoes.
Paint each of my fingernails a different color.
Make a fairy garden in my old bath tub.
Take pictures of my non-existent flower beds.
Find new uses for vinegar.
Decorate cupcakes.
Do butt crunches.
Make a smoothie with spinach.
Color eggs and sprinkle with glitter.
Make my own applesauce.
Buy a new purse.
Wear 8 inch heels.
Wear slim jeans.
Turn up cuffs on my jeans and carry a large purse in the crook of my arm.
Make candles out of my own bees wax.
Be a better person.
Cook pasta, lotsa pasta.
Sew more.
Make my own donuts.
Make a headboard out of the tailgate of a pickup truck.
Make my own dog food.
Make a purse from placemats.
Wear eyeliner.
Bake eggs in avocado halves.
Pin something inspirational.
Pin something funny.
Go somewhere exciting.
Organize............EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!
Get up off the couch and DO SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE PINTEREST!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Excuse me now, I am INSPIRED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! or jacked up on COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!

Love you guys.  Happy Tuesday!!!!!!!!!  Happy Pinning!!!!!!!!!!

I Have a Lump in My Throat for My Family

I've been looking at Pinterest.  What's new, huh?

Here's what's new.  I just saw the most wonderful picture of a table, beautifully dressed, but it was outside.  I wanted to steal that picture and place it here, but wasn't so sure of the proprietary rights.  It was dusk so the Japanese lanterns were glowing.  I want to give a family party.  That whole picture spoke family to me.  I miss my siblings.  I miss my in-laws.  I miss my family.  They are my family.

When I have this family party, I want the evening to be warm, not hot, but warm.  Warm enough so that a light sweater wouldn't be uncomfortable.  I want to have a lovely tablecloth running the full length of my long table, I want candles scattered over the table with small crystal vases filled with peonies.  I want the food to be simple, but delicious.  I want the dessert to be the Pièce de résistance.  I want the honeysuckle to be in bloom, and let's not forget the roses.  I want us all to set around the table, softly visiting and reminiscing about all the good times we have shared throughout these last mmmmmm 63 years.  And I don't want ants, wasps, bees, ticks, or mosquitoes or those nasty flies.  And I don't want anyone, specifically me, to be stressed!

Here's what I think really might happen.  We will all be on the patio, but the girls will be going back and forth into the house, their arms laden with food--well laden with the ketchup, mustard, onions, etc, the back door squeaking continually.  There will be lots of loud laughter going on outside, but never mind that, just talk over them.  Somebody will ask me if I have a flyswatter.  I will ask Johnny to watch the burgers on the grill while I hunt the flyswatter.  The smoke from the grill will be swirling around the patio driving the guys further out into the yard and right on out to the building to see some sort of project the hubby is working.  I hear laughter in the building.  What about the burgers?  Laughter stops.  The smoke is really thick now and I run over to the grill.  The forgotten burgers are now flaming.  Frownie face.  Grabbing the tongs, I save the burgers.  Laughter.  Then I hear my sister ask if we are going to use paper plates.  Of course....do we ever use anything else?  Laughter.  There are cokes (coke is the generic name for all soda pop) in the frig in the garage.  Help yourselves.  Laughter.

By now the smoke is dissipating.  Laughter.  Our tummies are full.  Soft laughter.  Small talk.  Laughter.  Plans.  Small talk.  Laughter.  Homemade ice cream--never too full for ice cream.  Loud laughter.  Small talk.  Soft laughter.  Family.  Small talk.  Laughter.

Which party do you want to attend?  While it would be so wonderful to have the first party, if you come to my home, you are more like to experience a party not unlike the last scenario.  When we all get together, we tend to be on the loud side, laughing, telling stories of old, telling stories of our jobs, telling stories of our children.............family.  I wouldn't change a thing.  My brother, my sisters, my sister-in-law, my brothers-in-law...........well they are my family and I love them all.  Family.

I love you family.  I have a lump in my throat for my family tonight.
 

My Fried Pie Story

In my high school days, one of the best days of the week was Thursday.  Thursday was Lion's Club day.  Thursday was the day for Apricot Fried Pies at the Dairy Mart made specifically for the Lion's Clubbers, of which, we all know, I was not one.  But the Dairy Mart was kind enough to share them with us commoners.............for a price, that is.  As I recall you could buy one of these sweet/tart pies for 75 cents topped with ice cream.  I cannot tell you how delicious these were, the white rivers of melting ice cream flowing all around the bits of crispy flaky crust waiting for my spoon to expose the apricot lusciousness inside.  So whenever we could and whenever I had enough money, my dear friends and I would walk to the Dairy Mart for one of these little pies.

Last week it so happened that I had a 2 pound bag of dried apricots in my pantry so I decided that I would make fried pies.  Bear in mind that I have never ever made fried pies in my life.  How hard could it be?  No, I didn't use a recipe, but really how hard could it be, right?  I got my apricots out, put them in the pot, and covered with water...no sugar, but that was intentional.  These lovely orange babies cooked until tender and were good just like they were, but they needed just a tad of sweetness.  I grabbed a jar of the apricot preserves that I made just the week before and added it to the tender apricots.  The mixture was perfect...........ready for fried pies.

Then it gets strange.  I found a huge bottle of Canola Oil in my pantry.  There is no telling how long I had it.  It came from Sam's Club so you know it's a big jug and there was probably a good half gallon left in the bottle.  The date was still good, but I smelled it just in case, and sure enough, it was rancid.  But just how rancid was it?  Could I use it anyway?  I needed to taste it and there is only one way...........fry something in it.  I have never claimed to be smart on the up-take.  Well, rather than fry up a whole batch of these little pies and throwing them away, I tested one, just one.  That was enough!  The smell was unbelievable.  You could smell that oil in my bedroom closet with the door closed.  We dared to taste that little pie and sure enough, the taste was as bad as the smell.  Well shoot, I wasted a half gallon of oil....not to mention it took me two days to get the smell out of the house.

OK, it was time to get serious.  That first test pie was made with a store bought Pillsbury Pie Crust, but now if I am going to do this right, I need to make my own "from scratch" pie crust so I proceeded to make the crust recipe found on the Crisco sticks.  I was also beginning to feel guilty about eating something that was fried so I gave in to the GUILT and baked a tray of "non-fried" fried pies.  They were the same shape, but alas, they were horrible and nothing like a good old fried pie.  Good thing I only made 5.  We picked around on them for the rest of the day, but they left us longing for an actual fried pie.

The next morning I thought surely I could try this again, but this time I will actually fry the fried pies.  This time I actually looked up a recipe on the Internet, a reviewed recipe, I might add.  A dough recipe using an egg...........now I have never heard of using an egg in dough, but the reviews..................  I had a new bottle of Canola so I heated it to the specified temperature actually using an oil thermometer.  What could go wrong?  Nothing at this point................  The pies were looking good, but then they started to burn and burn fast.................even using the thermometer...............so I turned down the heat.  Four pies came out of the oil and onto the cooling rack.  Four pies............and not one fit to eat.  Three were doughy and the fourth was soggy with grease.  Yuck!   

My Dear Hubby:  Sorry guy.  You will have to continue your quest for the perfect fried pie, but make this note, you will never find one in our kitchen.  That was the last time I will attempt them regardless of your encouraging "practice makes perfect".  Not gonna happen.

I love you.  Thanks for letting me share "My Fried Pie Story".  By the way, there is a delicious apricot cobbler on my countertop waiting for ice cream and me!  Come over, I will share.

Aunt Wilma's Ham

If you tuned in to the Pioneer Woman on the Food Network today, you saw her prepare a most lovely ham for her extended family; a ham certainly deserving center attention at your Easter Sunday lunch/brunch/dinner/supper.  I think her ham glaze might me on my menu this year............if I fix dinner at all. 

As I have blogged before, when I was a kid every other Sunday my mother, one of her sisters, or my grandmother would prepare a sumptuous feast.  They took turns and we knew far in advance who was fixing dinner on any particular Sunday for it never varied. 

There are so many memories, oh so many memories of those precious Sunday afternoons.  Here are just a few:

I remember the pig cookie incident at Aunt Geneva's.  You probably remember that, too, since I blogged about it before.

I remember one Sunday afternoon we were at Aunt Geneva's, and I talked Daddy into letting me take the brand new car to Prague to "drag Main".  He happened to check the odometer before I left.  I put 64 miles on the car dragging Prague's Main street, less than 2 miles a drag.  He wasn't too happy.

I remember Aunt Azalee serving quail that Uncle Wesley shot.

I remember Grandma Thompson's jello and bananas in her large yellow bowl which I now own and hasn't had jello and bananas in it since. 

I remember Mom's...................well everything..............her getting up before daylight to put some sort of meat in the oven.............leaving the potatoes on low while we were at church.............and many, many other things.............

What especially comes to mind tonight is Aunt Wilma, the baby sister of the family.  She lived in Shawnee when I was little and to me, that seemed like the very center of the universe, a place where someday I would live, a place where I might work, a place where I would probably join the country club and the flower club.  {sigh - not to be}

One particular Sunday, Aunt Wilma really outdid herself.  She had fixed the most beautiful ham I had ever seen, scored with cloves expertly placed, and a shiny, sugary glaze.  To top that--if you could ever top that--she had twice baked potatoes, one for each of us.  I had never seen such a beautiful presentation of food in my 10 year old life. 

I have had many beautifully prepared meals since that time in all areas of the country and a few overseas.  I have even fixed beautiful meals myself which were photo op ready, but when I boarded my memory time machine today, not even Pioneer Woman and her beautiful ham could compare to that day in my Aunt's kitchen.  Remember that ladies and gents, you are creating memories for all who pass before you, for those you serve, and you may never know what moments will be committed to memory.

I love you all.

I probably ought to buy a ham.  Easter is next Sunday!!!

 

Magical.............Time Machine.............Memories

My April issue of "Southern Living" came today and it seems to be back to the old magazine it used to be, filled with lots of recipes, decorating ideas, and gardening ideas.  Each page I turned filled me with thoughts of actually getting up off the couch and doing something.  I hate that when that happens. Goes against my retirement motto.  When I came to the very last page, I was disappointed that there were no more pictures, nothing to inspire me, but there was an essay and since I had some time on my hands and since I really haven't lost the ability to read, I started reading.  And then I came to this paragraph.

"I guess I could try to explain, to tell them that for us memory is not an inventory, not a catalog of events, but a time machine. It lifts us off the dull treadmill of grown-up responsibilities to a time of adventure and wonder. The past is not dead, so the dead are never really gone. We resurrect them, daily, for one more story, for one more buck dance or ball game, or one more cast into the cool water. I could try to explain this, but instead I think I'll take a boat ride."

This April 2013 Southern Living essay, entitled "My Time Machine" was written by Rick Bragg, a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer and author of several best-selling books, including The Most Most They Every Had and The Prince of Progress.  Mr. Bragg went on to describe his childhood memory of a houseboat which was cute and interesting, but the words he used to describe memory really touched me.  I have never thought about memory being a time machine. 

I write a lot of memories in my blog, some childhood, some when my children were small, and some are memories only made on the day they were published.  It just occurred to me today, that when I write a memory I am not just writing chronicle of events.  I have traveled back in time, reliving those memories as I typed them.  I took that ride right back there snapping green beans for mom, feeling my grandmother's fingers as she rubbed my back, on a California trip with my husband, fixing Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for my son, curling my daughter's hair, or working on the island hideout with my grandsons. 

Of course I have memories of some very sad and painful moments in my life, but for the most part those I share with you are the happy ones, the ones that I will seek when I get in my time machine.  Those happy moments all had a common thread.  We were just having fun, we didn't know we were making memories.

There is an Infiniti commercial that has a voice over that says "The memories we share today become more magical tomorrow."  Magical...........time machine............memories. 

Kudos to Mr. Bragg.  I see why he is a Pulitzer Prize winner. "The past is not dead, so the dead are never really gone."

I love you.  Good night.



   

For Now We Wait

For now we wait.

As I posted last week, we planted a few things in our garden.  Nothing earth shattering, but we did plant some onion sets and some onion plants, some peas, some radishes, a half row of turnips...yuck, a row of Yukon Gold potatoes, and as of today, some leeks.  If you have the idea that I am a gardener, you couldn't be further from the truth.  I will leave the hard core gardening to my sweet sister or my sweet sister-in-law, and my equally sweet brother.  They are the tried and true gardeners of the family.  When they are talking gardening, I am just on the sidelines, hoping to pick up a few of their hints.

I think one of the main reasons I plant my garden is to have a date with my hubby.  At this time of the year, if you drove down our road, you would probably find us taking a walk around our property.  In fact, you might find us checking out the garden at least twice a day.  It is our little time to plan, to see if anything is coming up, to decide if it needs weeding, watering, fertilizing, or picking, and did I mention watering?!?! 

We took our little walk just a few minutes ago, checking the onions, some of which are poking up through the ground just a tad................and...................and.................we have either turnips or radishes just breaking the soil.................. and before you wonder why I do not know...............I have no excuses other than I didn't plant them, my daughter did because I was climbing trees.

These little bits of new life are really exciting.  Fruits of our labor...........OK, maybe in a few weeks, but for now we wait.

I love you and if you will excuse me, I have a date.

Daddy, I was Watching

My little grandson, 5 years old, is learning to play chess.  His older brother has been playing for a few years now and is quite good, but his little brother..........well........you just don't know at what point in any game he will just give up and say "I'm done" and walk.......stalk......stomp off to another room.  His patience quota on a scale of 1 to 10 is about minus 3. 

He has been begging his daddy to play chess so daddy set up the board and they played.  The next night, the little guy wanted to play again so his daddy told him to set up the board thinking he'd just play however the little guy set up the board.........thinking he was too young to learn the particulars.  Much to his daddy's surprise, the little guy had set up the board exactly right, even the king and queen were in the right spots.  His daddy bragged and bragged on him and my little guy said "Daddy, I was watching."

What words, huh?  "Daddy, I was watching."  How profound.  Also, can you imagine what else the little children of the world are watching?  What kind of home life do they have?  Are they being fed?  Are they watching mom do a line of cocaine?  Are they watching daddy on his computer all night long?  Are they watching you?  Just something to think about.............  "Daddy, I was watching."

I love you.

Memory:  I relayed this little story of my grandson to my hubby this morning.  He laughed and said he wondered how our little guy's patience would fare in a game of chess............looking over at me.  Then we both laughed for we had our own little "chess story".  The very first six months of our married life, we played chess.  ................and you thought we were boring all of our lives, but look, we played chess back when so we weren't as boring as you thought, huh?.................  Here's how it went down, and I do mean down.  We had an intense game going, very intense, I tell you.  I had only my queen left and he had his king.  I was winning or so I thought.  Yep, I was going to take that old king out!  Then all of a sudden, I hear "checkmate!!!"  Well, my patience quota went from 8 to -3 in one fraction of one second.  I grabbed my side of the board, flipped it up and stomped off to the bedroom, crying.  He hubby came in to tell me I was winning, but that he cheated (or so he told me).  But all the same, it was the last time we played chess.  Nope not going to do it.  But a memory.

Daddy, I was watching.

Clean, White, Turquoise

Hello everybody.  Do you know your decorating style?  Sadly, I do not.  I am getting a clue though.  The Pioneer Woman tells us that she is beginning to know hers simply by looking at her pins on Pinterest.  I am going to take a look at mine and see.  I suspect what I will find is just clean rooms.  What I really, really want, tell me what ya really, really want, is clean.  White.  Turquoise. CLEAN!  Today that is what I lack.  CLEAN.  I want clean, but I just don't put the effort to keep it clean.

I have my favorite blogs and when I look at their posts and pictures, what I see is CLEAN and white with a little color mixed in.  One of my top two blogs is www.fortheloveofahouse.blogspot.com.  Oh my goodness, just take a look and you will see CLEAN.  There is never a thing out of place, but rather than it looking stark and uninviting, it is just the opposite.  Her house makes me want to curl up in a ball with a good book (not a Kindle) in any of her rooms, not excluding her beautiful bathroom with the lovely chair.  That is what I want, a beautiful comfy chair in my bathroom, but the bath needs to be big enough for it not to feel like I am in the bathroom.  Wouldn't work in my bathroom unless you used the ledge in the shower for a chair.  That might be strange for the hubs to find me curled up with my book in the shower.  Strange indeed!

Another favorite blog is www.houseofturquoise.com .  This blogger loves turquoise so she posts pictures daily of beautiful homes with touches of turquoise in them.  Various shades of blues and turquoise and teal are a common theme in her posts and I love each one.  I could stare endlessly at all the decorating ideas and beautiful shades of the sea in her pictures.  Take a look at today's post and the very first picture is a lovely room with turquoise/green that is divine, but very reminiscent of the 1960s.  In my senior year Home Economics class, we had to put together a booklet of our favorite house plan and show pictures of how we would decorate it, right down to the colors.  Mine was filled with light carpet and and touches of blues............throughout each room, very much like the picture in this blogger's post today.  I wish I had kept that booklet.......    

I hope you are having a very good day. Now I have to CLEAN. White and turquoise to come later.

I love you.

Oh Logan This is the Best Day Ever

It was the best day ever!
Planted garden.....just a few onions, radishes, turnips (not my idea), and a few other cool weather crops.  Believe me, having my 5 year old Logan really helped me speed up the process.  He took his gloved finger and drew me a line in the soil and told me I needed to plant right along that line.  His mom was there, too, keeping us all on track and in a straight line.  When it came to the radishes, his mother voiced her opinion that radishes weren't worth planting and that she didn't like them.  My sweet Logan had this to say to her.  "Mom, they look so nice.  They look so nice when they come up.  Yes, we need to plant them because they look so nice."  That is my little Logie Bear.  They look so nice.

While his mom finished planting some of the seeds, Logan and I had to climb trees, but I admit I was just there for the "can you give me a boost, Nana?" moments.  We found all kinds of pretty flowers and knee deep leaves which he used to bury himself.  Baths tonight!!! 

Lunch time.  "Nana, can I have a bologna sandwich with just bread and some mayonnaise on it?"  "I can?"  "Can I eat in the living room?"  "Can I eat on this chair?"  "Can I watch cartoons while I eat my lunch, too?"  "Oh Nana, this is the best day ever." 

After lunch he had to show me his secret hideout.  Here is the best part:  He took my hand (that never ever happens) and lead me to the back of the property to show me his new hideout.  He dropped to the ground to lay claim to this new territory.  Then we held hands to explore a little more and we found the little island in our dried up pond.  Once again, he dropped to the ground to stake his claim.  We broke limbs so that it would look nicer and when we were leaving we found a broken tree, but to him it was his door to the new fort.  "Now, Nana, can we just walk side by side?"  We were still best buds though. 

When he got in his booster seat to go home, he grabbed my hand again (I was in HEAVEN) and brought it up to his face drawing me a little closer to him, not for a kiss, but to say this.  "Will you tell Grandpa not to cut down that limb and not to throw it away cause it is our door?  Will you?  Does Grandpa sometimes forgets things?"

OH Logan, you are right.  This is the best day ever, and no, I will not let Grandpa clear that limb away.

I love you!

Thanks for Your Advice, Grandma

I am expecting company this next week so I am cleaning.  No, I am not trying to be all Martha Stewarty, but I am trying to clean a little deeper than usual.  In fact, I might be Spring Cleaning.  I capitalized that because it is an event in my house. 

I love having company for it spurs me on to do things that I have neglected.  I don't know about you, but sometimes something is misplaced for so long that I don't even notice it.  A good way to see the misplaced items is to take a picture of your family.  If you say "That would have been a good picture if  fill in the blank had been put away.", then you need to take care of fill in the blank.

A bit of advice from a woman who cleans house rarely, but is an imperfect wannabe perfectionist--stay on top of it.  There is no reason for me to ever Spring Clean again.  I should be working out a system whereby I clean weekly.  

Another bit of advice--make a first impression.  Make sure the entrance to your home is clean and attractive.  Go out to the curb and walk to your front door.  What grabs your attention?  Make a list.  Do you need to put the hose up for the season?  Does the flower bed need attention?  Are there dead leaves on the porch?  Does the whole front porch need dusting?  Does your front door need a good cleaning?  First impressions - you will not get another chance to make a first impression.  By the way, those are questions that I asked myself and sadly, all of those needed (noticed the 'ed' on that word) attention.  I am so ashamed. 

Another bit of advice and this from my very wise grandmother who passed away 41 years ago today.  She told me never to apologize for my home.  I am sure many of you are skeptical about that, but it is true.  She told me that long before I ever became engaged.  She didn't have much, but she never apologized for a thing.  Someone told me, and I forget who, that my grandmother always made her feel welcome in her home even when she dropped in unannounced. 

I hope to make my company feel welcome in my home next week.  That is my goal.  I want my house to be clean, but I want my company to feel comfortable enough to put their feet up.  I want them to want to come back sometime.  I want them to feel the hospitality that my grandmother instilled in me. 

Thanks for your advice, Grandma.  I still miss you after all these 41 years.

I love you.  I'll mop, you dust!

There Are Good People in this World

There are such good people in the world.  I just thought I would throw that out there since yesterday I was having my own rant writing about all the negativity in our world today.  Yes, some very good people.

Guess what I did today.  I know you will never guess so I will tell you.  I split wood.  Yes, me!  OK it isn't like my grandpa used to split logs.  No, I had a log splitter.  Oh man, who knew that splitting wood could be so much fun.  And guess what I did after that.  I stacked it.  Do you think that the energy I spent will offset the pint of ice cream I will have later?  Nah, me neither.

I hope you had a chance to get outside today.  While the day was sometimes overcast and just a tad cold, we did NOT have wind.  In Oklahoma that equals a beautiful day and those are rare--the ones with no wind.  The hubby had to remind me that in August we will again have those no wind days and I will be complaining.

But for today..............well the day was perfect.  And to top this perfect day, while we were stacking wood, a sweet neighbor drove up on his Kabota and asked if we wanted him to rototill our garden.  Of course!  He got right on it and within minutes my garden is as smooth as silk, ready to be planted.  I am sure all of you already have things growing right now, but as usual we are a day late and a dollar short.  There are  good people in this world and one drove right up on his white steed today.

I love you.

    

I Was Just Wondering

I was just wondering.............have you notice all the negativity on the Internet?  If you have ever read any "news" article on the Internet, then I am sure you have noticed that you can leave your comments.  I don't often read the comments, but when I do, I notice that almost all of them are negative.  In fact, they are so negative that you certainly would not want to read them to your 8-year old grandchild.  And guess what, none of the commenter's leave their names.  I guess that anonymity gives them their perceived right to rant and rant with such venom that it makes me wonder if physical violence would be their next course of action.  The commenters seem to want to fight with one another. 

I read the PW's blog......I admit it.  Most of you know who I am talking about.  I am not a huge fan, but certainly it is one I follow.  I have a good time with it and take it for what it is worth--good clean fun....entertainment.  I am not going to learn anything of importance there and I know that.  The recipes are the same as what I grew up with and can certainly make most of them without a recipe. The point is I follow it because it is just good clean entertainment.  Here's what you may nos t know.  There is another blogger out there totally devoted to badmouthing everything about PW, her family, her blog, and her TV program.  The blogger doesn't mince words and has nothing good to say about PW and the comments of this blogger's followers are just as negative.  The f word is typed with complete abandon.  Why?  Effect?  Shock?  Does the PW's blog really warrant such ranting? 

How many of us actually write a review of a hotel, products, or services?  Probably not many and fewer ever write a positive review.  So when I read online reviews, I also take into account the tone of the reviewer.  If it is completely filled with cursing or other such rantings, I make the assumption that the reviewer might be a little grumpy.......like all the time.  It the reviewer tells me the facts including the positive as well as the negative, then I take notice.  I am a grown woman and I can make my own assumption.  When a reviewer is cursing and obviously mad, I feel they are not rational and I disregard their comment.  For me, they lost their intended affect.

I was just wondering.............

That's it from the editor.  Nothing profound, nothing perplexing, nothing nostalgic tonight. 

I love you.

It is a Sweet Road Home

You can't go home again, or....can you?

It's a long, long road

Back home again

A road, a long road,

but filled with memories

and stories

that get better every day.

A sweet road home.

There it is folks.  The Dawkins road.

My road.

My road of memories.

My daughter's road of memories.

Such a sweet road

and while it may be owned by someone else,

that road is my road,

my family's road

for nobody else can look at that road

through the same eyes as we do.

 

This is the drive (we called it a drive) we walked every school day to catch the bus.  Down there around the big cedar you see in the distance is where the house was.  If you look left (not pictured) you can imagine the main road running parallel to our drive.  One of us kids would be assigned to look out the north window to catch a glimpse of the school bus.  Once we saw it, we had just enough time to walk up the drive to where you see the gate to catch the bus. 

 

(I confess, even as a teenager, it killed me to walk home from the bus and not find mom at home.  The house always seemed cold when she was not there to greet us.  I always have been a sentimental slob.) 

 

The mailbox was located directly across from the gate and in the summer it was one of our chores (and I say chores because not one of us enjoyed walking to get the mail.  We always grumbled.  It was hot!). 

 

I learned to drive on that drive.  I drove up that road many times just to get practice.  Getting the mail was a treat then.  I have memories of backing up from the mailbox way too fast, throwing the car into forward gear a bit TOO fast, and the car fishtailing and kicking up gravel.  I wonder if Mom ever saw that.

 

When I was out on my own,

Married with children

There was the drive 

The drive that meant I was home.

 

You can go home again.

It will not be the same

for you will have only your memories.

But it is a sweet road home indeed. 

 

I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Trivia

Well, as usual, it is Saturday night and we are setting here, myself on the laptop and the hubby on his Kindle.  Boring, as usual, but to make this little scenario more boring, we are watching The Lawrence Welk Show.  No need for snickering here.  Tonight, with Doc Severinson as host, PBS is featuring big band music from Mr. Welk's shows through the years; trying to generate a little money.  For those of you who don't know, the hubby's favorite music is, by far, big bands.  He and my dad had so much to discuss back when for Dad loved his big bands, too.  The thing is, the hubby is one generation beyond that genre, but he loves it just the same.

In addition to naming the songs before Doc finishes his intro to each one, the hubby manages to fill me in on all sorts of other trivia.  Here is just a small sampling of what my hubs had to say tonight.  He's in his element.

"A Train - Do you know what the A Train was?  The subway train to Harlem."

"Ted Lewis - He wore an old battered top hat that he supposedly won in a crap game.  He always said "Is everybody happy?""

"Bob Crosby - His most famous song was "Big Noise From Winnetka"."

"In addition to the Ted Lewis orchestra, there was a Ted Weems orchestra with a hit named "Heart Aches".

At the mention of the top hat, I just stared at him and teased him that he was just a 'wealth of information'.  You cannot beat this man in Trivia Pursuit.  Just not possible and when he was paired with my dear brother-in-law, well they were a force to be reckoned with.  I think the hubby has a protege in the works though.  Our 8 year old grandson, Blaine, is just a wealth of information, moving on from his fascination and knowledge of Russia to the presidents of the United States.  Would you believe he has checked out the almanac from the library and finds it fascinating reading?  Give that boy a flashlight and almanac and he entertains himself before he falls asleep---dreaming of becoming the president?????

FYI:  Our home is filled with music, all genres - well maybe not much country, definitely no rap, and no hard rock, but filled with music.  The hubby could have his own radio station with his reel to reel tapes (old stuff), all sorts of vinyls, tapes, CDs, and tons of MP3s (got rid of the eight tracks).  It is very hard for this man to get rid of any form of music......last hold out!

I love you.  Night night everybody.  I hope to have a little story about my home place tomorrow or Monday.

Entertainment????????

Every once in a great while, I like a black and white movie--an oldie.  Tonight is just the night...a night at home.....fireplace burning.....and my laptop....a commentary of our times.  I wonder just how many people in the good old US of A are tonight, at this very moment, on their laptops, iPads, or smart phones?  What am I asking??????  People cannot even go to the bathroom without their smart phones..(and it is kind of disgusting to hear someone on the phone in the ladies room).

Anyway, this great little 1947 movie stars Charlie Chapman, "Monsieur Verdoux", and even though I don't remember ever seeing him in any movies until I was married, I do see several old, old movie stars.  William Frawley of the "I Love Lucy" fame;  probably you know him.   And then there is Martha Raye.  When I think of Martha Raye, Grandpa Dawkins comes to mind.  We kids stayed at Grandpa Dawkins' house a lot when Mom and Dad went out (most often to buy groceries).  I think TV was Grandpa's favorite invention; he just loved his TV and variety and game shows were his favorite.  Martha seemed to be on everyone of those variety shows--always brash and obnoxious. 

So many have entertained us over the years (Jack Benny, Bob Hope, Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, and the list goes on and on), but sadly they are now only faded memories that come to life when we come across an old movie.  Times were so different then......no blood and guts even though shots were fired......no nudity.......no cursing......and you know what?  We were entertained!  Today, we think that everything should be as real as possible..........murder should look like murder, blood and guts.........cursing should be as hard and graphic and shocking as it can be to mock what we hear on the streets..........nudity because we have become accustomed to it.  And what has all this "reality entertainment" gotten us?  Are we truly better off with all this "reality"?

Just so you know, I love the year in which I am living now.  I would never want to live in the 1950s again, as sweet as they were, but I often question why the human race seeks more and more reality....don't we live it enough? 

Daddy, you would not like all this reality..........and you'd never let me watch "Grey's Anatomy". 

By the way, this little movie is over now and while it wasn't the greatest, it was entertaining in a way that isn't common in 2013.

I love you.