Wednesday, November 30, 2011

IT IS HARD TO LOSE YOUR MOTHER

A childhood friend's Mother passed away and will be laid to rest tomorrow. I have had Toni on my mind all day and I am reminded of the first time I met her Mother. I was in the second or third grade when I rode the bus to Toni's house with the intentions of spending the night. Although I do not remember where she lived, it seemed like a long bus ride. I usually walked back and forth to school and never rode a bus farther than from Michie school to my Grandparent's house out by the new high school. It is hard to imagine allowing a third grader to spend the night away from home but times were different then. We walked through what I thought was a forest to get to her cousin's house to play until just before dark. Her Mother was in on a trick we planned to play on her Dad and had supper ready and the table set awaiting his return from work. When his car turned into the driveway, we scooted behind the long white tablecloth and waited for her Mother to tell him we had not made it off the school bus. Now mind you, it was already dark outside when he said, "Well, when we get through with supper, we will go out looking for them." Today, I can imagine the wink and the eyes turned toward the table as her Mama pretended to be worried about the wayward children. We tumbled out from under the table to surprise him and he made a big to-do about us being safe. It was not long after supper that I became homesick and Daddy had to come pick me up.

This is the picture of me in shorts (on picture day) and
Toni is beside me in a pretty little dress I am sure her
Mother picked out especially for her.

We lived in the downstairs apartment across from the college when Toni attempted to spend the night with me. Although she did not make it all night either, I think it had more to do with us getting into trouble for writing with ink on the wallpapered walls. After she left, Mama made me scrub the ink off with Comet cleanser. Personally, I think the ink drawings looked better than the rubbed out wallpaper.

I do not remember Hazel again for close to fifty years. When I did start seeing her routinely, despite being so ill herself, she always spoke of her love and concern for Toni and of her appreciation for her grandchildren's care of Toni. I guess Mothers will always worry about their children.

Although it is true, I do not want to voice the usual, "She is in a better place" or "At least she is not suffering."  I do want to express my imaginations though. I envision the joyful reunions her Mother is experiencing now. I envision her lungs filled with clean air as she has laughter filled conversations with long passed loved ones. I envision the sun shining warmly on her as she walks arm in arm with her own Mother and Father. I envision her arms filled with beautiful bouquets as she sits on the banks of a clear stream surrounded by orchards of leaf covered trees shading meadows of green grass. I envision her pretty, smiling face as she no longer remembers a pain filled body. I envision her surrounded by pure LOVE.







Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Puddle Jumper



Mama had and loved a little green 1964 Chevrolet Corvair she called her puddle jumper. She drove it back and forth every day to work at what then was just called the chicken plant. This was long before anyone knew about Don Tyson.  


Mama in her Corvair? No it isn't.

It fit her perfectly but I wasn't as fond of the box like vehicle with a clutch, brake pedal, accelerator, and gear shift that all had to operate in sequence. Although, as noted in previous posts, I had difficulty riding a bicycle, I was determined I was going to drive a car. How hard could it be?  After all, I had seen a lot of people driving cars in the movies and on television.

One Sunday afternoon, after much pleading on my part, Daddy agreed to begin teaching me to drive. I had visions of long drives with the windows down and the wind blowing my long hair while gripping the steering wheel with one hand and smoothly shifting gears with the other hand. Although I was looking forward to a little father/daughter time, my brother and sister hopped in the back seat of Mama's little car as Daddy drove me to the, at that time unpaved, straight stretch of Shoe Plant Road. He began with the basics of starting the engine before showing me how to gently ease off on the clutch while pushing the accelerator down slowly and sliding it into first gear. That was a little tricky because when I released the clutch just a little too quickly, that danged puddle jumper would try to leap over some imaginary mud hole. After I failed to get the wheels moving forward more than two rotations before the car would shudder and die, my brother pulled a football helmet out of the back seat and put it on. Little sister was tucked tightly in the back floorboard.

I finally got the car headed South but something was still wrong. It was a good thing that was an untraveled road because obviously there was something wrong with the steering mechanism on the car.
It kept going from way over on the far West side of the road to nearly in the ditch on the East side. I didn't understand what Daddy was wanting to know when he kept asking me why I was moving the steering wheel back and forth. Didn't they turn the steering wheel from side to side in the movies? After just that one lesson, Daddy said I would have to take driver's education. I am still not convinced it was all my fault though. After all, the Corvair was one of eight cars listed in Ralph Nader's 1965 book "Unsafe At Any Speed."

Except for that one instance I would have crashed into the city pool house if not for Coach "I Forgot His Name" braking in the nick of time, driver's education went off without a hitch. But had I known you had to report your height and weight when you got your license, I would not have been as eager to learn to drive.



















Monday, November 28, 2011

Last Christmas Pictures

I am only showing pictures tonight since I am running behind on EVERYTHING.  The following pictures are from the Grandchildren's last Christmas cookie baking. My new kitchen is pretty small so I divided the grandchildren up by cousins rather than siblings. May do it again this year. I have the best Christmas cookie recipe I will share with you as well. Grandma called them tea cakes.


Blake and Konstance.
 They're great friends and cousins.

Cousins Rachel and Sierra. They are so much alike. 


Christmas Cookies

  • 3 cups all purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1 and 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1 cup shortening
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla
Cream shortening, sugar, eggs, vanilla in large mixing bowl.  Combine dry ingredients and add to creamed ingredients. Form into 2 balls and chill in refrigerator. On floured surface roll dough out 1/4 inch thick and cut into shapes. Sprinkle with granulated or colored sugar. Bake at 375 degrees F. 8-10 minutes. 

I usually have the dough chilled when grandchildren arrive and they do the cutting and sprinkling with sugar. 

Now I need to get to catching up on all of your posts. I don't want to miss anything. Although....I am becoming a little intimidated by all your lovely pictures of your Christmas decorating and I have done none so far.




Saturday, November 26, 2011

Miniature Horse Found


Do you remember me telling you my granddaughter Rachel loves horses? And did I tell you her Papa keeps her well supplied in them? Well, somehow she ended up with a miniature horse named Playgirl. Although the rest of the horses have been moved to pastures closer to where we now live, Playgirl was left on the old farm to be bred with a neighbor's miniature. As I lost that battle long ago, I did not ask why. Playgirl had rendezvoused with her betrothed a year ago without success and another attempt was scheduled. She spent the allotted time at the neighbor's farm, was returned home, and tucked safely away in the lower meadow until she could be brought down to pasture with the other horses.

Alexis and Samson
I am reminded of a cute story about one of the other horses. Rachel and her Papa had bought a mare at the horse sale a few years back who, very unexpectedly, delivered a foal a few months later. When trying to determine paternity, the seven or eight year old Rachel said, "Well, it couldn't be Pepper 'cause he has had his shots." Pepper is hubby's big gelding - who, by the way, is a really good "mother" to all the new arrivals.
Jackie and Beauty
Pepper is checking on Jackie's new foal. Snowflake is curious as well.
 

Playgirl had been back on the farm only a few days when someone called the neighbor to ask if she knew whose mini that was trotting down the paved road toward her house. Sure enough, Playgirl had escaped her pen and was trying to return to the not so greener pastures two miles away. It is funny to think of a little pony walking alone down a paved road. If she is that determined, we may as well let them get married.

Playgirl at her "new home"

Flash was born the same day Blake was. My birthday too.

And that is not even half of them. Did you know horses eat a lot?

Friday, November 25, 2011

THEY ARE JUST THINGS - BUT THEY ARE MY THINGS

Here are just a few of the "things" that I like. My tastes change and I may not like them next year but right now I do. And......does anyone have an answer to this question? Why do I like the "things" from the fifties, sixties, and some of the seventies?



Tupperware - does anyone NOT like Tupperware?

Mama's pretty little redbird lamp. Excuse the wilting philodendron.
Philodendron are so forgiving.

My collection of "aqua". I use these "things"

Grandma's Christmas Elves that stay out yearlong.

Metal toothpick grabber my son bought me because
it reminded me of one Grandma had.

My drainboard kitchen sink. I know....who cares about a sink?

Sweet potatoes in my Harvest Wheat pattern
dish sitting on my fifties dinette.

More baked sweet potatoes.



Thursday, November 24, 2011

A Thanksgiving To Remember

My daughter and her family went to Texas to spend the holiday with family there. Poor Blake, my only grandson who was also born on my birthday, had to be taken to the emergency room late last night after a trampoline accident resulted in a fractured arm. Although I am sure it was scary and painful, he was very brave and did not whimper. I think Mama, Daddy, and Sissy were more emotional that Blake. The staff at the hospital fixed him up in a temporary cast until  he can be seen by an orthopedic doctor back here. He is finding it very difficult to do things without a right arm and he is wondering how he will be able to write when he gets back to school next week. He is thinking a touchscreen laptop would be appropriate. We are thankful it was only a broken arm.

This is Blake's "Woody" impersonation at Hobby Lobby


We had a lovely "too much food" dinner with hubby's family. As a friend said today, I hope you were all warm enough, full enough, and loved enough.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL






Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise; be thankful unto him, and bless
his name.      Psalms 100:4

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

FAVORITE FOODS

I have been thinking a lot about food lately. Although I always think about food, this time of the year makes me remember foods from my past. I remember my Grandmas preparing special dishes or foods for the holidays and special occasions.


My Oklahoma Grandma made her Thanksgiving dressing with what we called "light bread" instead of the cornbread stuffing I was accustomed to. She always made a German Chocolate cake with a coconut pecan icing for my dad. Although she pretended she did not like him, she bought him Coors Beer too. Because she knew he liked Coors.


Because she knew he loved them, Daddy's Mother made him banana puddings for Thanksgiving dinner. The made from scratch pudding was especially good if eaten still warm. Daddy said he also liked my step mom's whipped topping banana pudding.  Grandma made my brother oatmeal cakes with coconut pecan frosting. I wonder if he still likes them? I would make him one if he would come visit. Because I know he loves oatmeal cakes.


Mama started working outside the home shortly after my baby sister was born. Grandma became very attached to her and pretty much whatever Freda Lou wanted, Freda Lou got. Often at some large family gathering, with every dish you can imagine presented, Grandma would fry potatoes just for her. Because Freda loved fried potatoes.
Look at that baby - wouldn't you fry potatoes for her too?

We would often have fried chicken dinners at Grandma's after Sunday church. The whole fryer would be cut up and fried - giblets and all. Grandpa was always given the gizzard and liver because it was his favorite. Years went by before Grandpa announced he had never really cared for gizzards.


Grandma was known for her yeast rolls, pinto beans, and Mexican chicken. But it was often the simpler things that I remember the most. Since my uncle and I had children the same age, we were often at Grandma's at the same time. I can still see Bo and Todd sitting on the bar separating the dining room and kitchen while Grandma made them a bowl of warm oatmeal. Because they loved oatmeal.


Except for the milk gravy Grandma fed me when I was an infant, I do not remember special just-for-me meals. Well....she did make homemade applesauce for me when I was on Dr. Lane's Diet. And....she did bake all those sweet potatoes for me while I was expecting Greg. Because she knew I loved sweet potatoes.















































































Monday, November 21, 2011

A NO DIET HOLIDAY

Just in time for the holidays, I have an addendum or slight modification to The Looking For A Husband Diet.
Click here for the original post of Dr. Lane's Diet


Per Doctor Lane's orders shortly before Thanksgiving.....one should never diet on a holiday.




A VERY HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL


**Disclaimer** As a medical professional, I recommend you continue to adhere to medically prescribed regimens.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

The Last Of The Tomatoes

These are the last of my tomatoes off the plant I have on my front porch. I may have had three to ripen over the summer but as soon as the weather turned cooler, they started producing. Alas, too late to ripen though. My brother in law - thanks Ron - brought me the last of his green tomatoes. As there were quite a few of his, I decided to follow the instructions a friend  - thanks Kathy - told me her mother in law did with her green tomatoes. Hubby and I wrapped each one in newspaper, placed them in a box, and he took them to the bonus room to ripen. (Remember, I try not to climb those stairs if I can get someone else to do it for me. And I certainly wouldn't be able to carry a box up there.) We had intentions of having fresh ripened tomatoes for Christmas dinner. I then rechecked the comment she had left on my facebook page to see if I had done it correctly and found they should have been laid out where they could get sun. No sun up there. I will bring them down and put them where they can get a little sunlight and check for ripening every three days - as instructed. We will keep our fingers crossed.



Speaking of fingers crossed. Our little Sierra, whose party we are having today, was over Friday night for a while. She is always hopeful one of the old VHS tapes from the times her Dad was a kid will work in the recorder. She had chosen the Disney movie El Dorado and taking it out of the case, I encouraged her to cross her fingers. Always eager to please, she took both index fingers and placed them together in an X or cross symbol. Wish I had snapped a picture then but here is pretty one of her taken by her Mom.




Saturday, November 19, 2011

A GOOD NAME

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.
Proverbs 22:1

It occurred to me when viewing my post about Grandpa's Henry J, that some might wonder about Grandpa's name. Grandpa was named Jiles David Middleton but usually was called Rosie (or Rosy or maybe Rosey). I heard two different versions of how he got the nickname Rosie. I heard he looked like Teddy Roosevelt and was called Rosie for short. I also heard his cheeks were rosy - therefore Rosie. I do think it had something to do with Teddy Roosevelt though, as Grandma called him Roosevelt - pronounced Rose-velt. He signed my marriage license as his official name, J.D. Middleton. There is a family anecdote that all nine of Grandma's children, according to their birth certificates, had a different father. One had J.D. listed as the father; one had Jiles David; another one with Jiles; one had Rosie; one had Rosevelt; another Roosevelt; one was Giles...and so forth. To most people in the community he was Brother Rosie.


My Grandpa and Grandma



Grandpa's Mother was a Robinson from Limestone Valley. One of her cousins once told me that, although their family name was originally Roberson, it somehow later became Robinson. As registration of births was not mandatory until WWII, accurate birth records were not kept in my great grandmother's day. If a birth was recorded, the spelling of the names was often at the recording official's discretion.


Did I tell you already that Grandma safely delivered nine children, had no miscarriages, with all her children living when she passed away? Daddy was her second child and first son. They named him David Leon and he was called Leon until later nicknamed Prof. 


Although Mama intended to name my brother Paul Dean (after Daddy's brother and her brother), when she awakened from the anesthetic, his name was already Junior. She attempted again to use the names of their brothers and name my little sister, Paula Dean (I just realized "Paula Deen"). Well, poor Mama. Both of said brothers named their daughters portions of their names just a month before Mama delivered my sister. Paul Dean/Paula Dean was not meant to be. Mama first thought she would name her after the two grandmother's middle names, but decided against this when she began to think how it would sound when she called her name. Her mother's middle name was Etolia (E-tol-ya) and Daddy's mother's middle name was Lou. She was afraid people would think she was trying to yodel when she called her to come into the house. She was named Freda Lou.


And remember, I was named after Rita Hayworth - who was no saint.










Grandpa's Henry J



The farm Grandma and Grandpa lived on, and where most of my childhood memories are from, was torn down several years after they moved back to town. There had been two huge barns, a dark, loud, and scary pump shed, a smoke house, a storm cellar, a hard-to-cross-for-a-kid cattle guard, and green pastures all around the small house I then thought was so big. Grandpa took care of the cattle on the farm for Mr. Wish, who also owned the feed store where Grandpa had worked for years. It stood where the new High School is now. I wonder how long I will call it the "new" High School? 

We usually caught the bus at the farm and could see the bus coming down Spadra Road far enough away to get to the stop in time. I would cut through the pasture rather than having to run across the cattle guard and then downhill to the road. That climb back up the hill used to be so much steeper than it is now. I remember missing the school bus one morning and walking with my uncle all the way to the school at the corner of Main and Montgomery streets. I think I had to do quite a few double-steps to keep up with him.

When we were kids, Grandpa had a Henry J car that frequently would not start unless pushed to the top of the hill. It was our job to send that little car down the slope fast enough to start when Grandpa "popped" the clutch. We would find a place along the back bumper or the fenders and push until Grandpa waved his hand out the window to indicate he was coasting fast enough for it to start. We waited at the top of the hill for the sound of the engine catching before returning to the house.




I do not remember what color Grandpa's Henry J was. I read they cost $1300 new and were capable of going up to 50 miles per hour. Grandpa never drove any vehicle 50 miles per hour. My aunt said she went to sleep in the back seat of the car Grandpa was driving on a trip from Clarksville to Little Rock. Thinking they were nearing Little Rock, she awakened to find they were only in Lamar.

Grandpa never missed an opportunity to go to church. He was returning from Wednesday night services when he was stopped near the courthouse by a city policeman. The nice young patrolman saw who it was and said, "Brother Rosie, your car was weaving some but if I had known it was you I wouldn't have pulled you over." That was the last time Grandpa drove a car.
.





Thursday, November 17, 2011

A BLENDED FAMILY

I have a guest blogger tonight. My oldest granddaughter has had horses since way before she should have. I cannot remember for sure how old she was when she wrote the following horse story. But first, a picture of her taken about a year ago on her favorite horse Jackie.



Mother and baby

Once there was a mother and a baby

Who had no dad so she just had a mother



There was a boy horse near by.

Who had a baby with him.


The mother asked if he would be her wife.
(a little gender identification problem)

Not sure if this is the baby or mother.


So she has a new father

The End


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

THE PARABLE OF TWO WIVES





My Grandpa said he once asked a woman how her newly married daughter was doing. Her reply was that she had married the nicest young man who treated her like she was a queen. She continued extolling his virtues with how he had a good job downtown and was so generous he would turn his paycheck over to her every Friday. She beamed proudly as she finished with, "Why, he even brings her coffee in bed every morning before he goes off to work and she doesn't have to stay home alone all day since she can come visit with me in that pretty new car he bought her. Her man is so considerate he usually takes her out for dinner or helps her cook and cleanup if they stay home. And did you see their new house they built up the street?"

Grandpa nodded and agreed that was wonderful news before asking, "Well, how is your son?" Her response to this inquiry was that the poor boy had married a lazy, worthless woman who made him go off to work every day and expected him to turn over all his hard earned money every week. The woman shook her head and persisted with, "She lays up in bed all morning and then drives that fancy new car over to her mama's house to spend the rest of the day there. To top that off, he either has to take her out to eat every night or she expects him to help out in the kitchen after he has worked all day. And the poor child is going to be paying forever on that brand new house she just had to have."


This story has nothing to do with anyone I knew or now know but it occurred to me it could have been written about me. Hubby and I first lived only a couple of blocks from Grandma and, as this was back in the days hubby actually did not want me to work, I would awaken mid morning, clean the house, walk to Grandma's, and stay until time for him to get off work. One of my aunts, who was expecting at the same time as I, was usually there as well. Grandma baked six or so sweet potatoes in the oven every day for Judy and I. I have no doubt the soft, buttery, orange goodness was responsible for our beautifully, healthy babies.





Today is our baby granddaughter, Sierra's birthday. She caught this fish on the Arkansas River all by herself. I think her daddy made her land it after she hooked it. She really wanted no part of it, though. Happy Birthday Sweetheart. We're having a butterfly themed party for her on Sunday.

























Tuesday, November 15, 2011

My First Brassiere

First off, I would like to thank all of you for the sweet comments about My Little Mama. I found comfort in each one.


Now, I want to tell you about my first brassiere.




                        NO THIS IS NOT IT!!!


I saw this picture on The Far Side of Fifty Blog. She was kind enough to let me borrow it. Read her Brassiere post.
Click here for Far Side of Fifty's blog

It is a very unique and patriotic sculpture. But what is up with being in the front yard? 


Locals will remember - well the locals my age will remember - the old Ben Franklin store, that used to be between White's Drug Store and Farmer's Bank, burned down when I was in the fourth grade at Hurie School. My Grandpa worked for the City of Clarksville at that time and helped clean up the debris. Back then cleaning up meant using a shovel and wheel barrow. He brought home a bunch of smoke damaged items from the burned out store to check for anything salvageable.


This was during the time my grandparents were caretakers on the Wish Brother's farm where the High School is now. I loved the little house where I spent so much of my childhood. I liked the closet that you could enter in Grandma's bedroom and come out in Auntie's room. The house was actually much smaller than I remembered it. I used an outdoor toilet and washed my hands in a washstand by the kitchen door until a bathroom and washroom was added to the back of the house. 


All of us children were shooed outside the day Grandpa and Daddy dumped boxes and bags full of soot soiled goods around the old Tide and Purex filled wringer washing machine. Grandma, Mama, and several of my aunts reminded me of little squawking hens pecking around in the yard as they sorted through the various Playtex and Maidenform necessities. I wasn't sure why all the goings on embarrassed me. 


You would have to understand my upbringing. Our grandparents taught and practiced moderation in all things. I rarely saw Grandma in her nightgown or Grandpa in a short sleeved shirt. Modesty was of utmost importance. Undergarments were "unmentionables" and therefore not discussed. But the few whispers and giggles I overheard on the playground made me associate the washroom activities with shame.


Always the nosy child, I kept returning to the back room where the womenfolk were debating which brassiere - as they were called then - would fit who. To this day, I vividly remember my Daddy, of all people, as he walked through the steamy washroom saying, "Don't you think you need to find one for Rita Ann?" 


And so it began.
















































































                                            





















Monday, November 14, 2011

MY LITTLE MAMA


My mama was born in Missouri, raised in Oklahoma, married my daddy, and lived the rest of her life in Arkansas.


Mama was five years old here. I see her in the faces of some of my nieces. I favored her as a child too.


Mama is ten years old here. Isn't she a pretty little thing? She was the only girl with three older brothers and one younger brother. I think they spoiled her and she loved them all.

Mama was only sixteen when she married and moved away from her family in Oklahoma. That was not unusual in 1950. I was born one year later.  I only cost them $22.00.



My hospital bill shows 2 days at $5.00 a day. $10.00 for the delivery room. $1.00 for lab. $1.00 for baby bracelet. It was paid in full the day I left the hospital. I wonder how long daddy worked to pay $22.00?

Mama said I would have starved as an infant if my grandma had not fed me milk gravy off the table. She said her milk was "blue john". What the hay is that? They put me on Pet Milk formula.


Mama curled my hair in rags the night before pictures were to be made at the photographer downtown. I'm not sure how old I am but I remember her saying she would let me wear her mustard seed necklace if I would not cry when she combed my hair out. I really wanted to cry. I wish I had that little pendant with a mustard seed in it now. Mama would iron a crease in my dress sleeve to make it pouf out. Look how cute my little brother is. My daughter's hair stuck straight up like that too.

I remember mama not letting me have the bubble gum the newspaper man would toss to us as he scurried by with his paper laden wagon.

I remember telling my brother the switching would hurt more if he ran from mama.

I remember being sick and throwing up on the Greyhound bus the whole way to Oklahoma City. I remember it took a dime to use the toilet at the bus station in Henryetta. Mama had me crawl under the door. I remember not making it to the bathroom before throwing up again. I am thankful Mama didn't abandon me in that bus station.

Mama had my baby sister when I was nine and she was twenty five. I thought she was too old to be having a baby. She was much older than I was when I had my daughter at twenty five.


Mama would suck on lemon drops but rarely shared with us. She said they prevented "liver spots". I am trying to remember if she had age spots. I wish she had let me have more of them.

Mama did not believe in sparing the rod, or the switch, or her hand, or a fly swat. I was bigger than she was the last time she tried to chase me with a fly swat. She got tickled and gave up.

She washed my mouth out with lifebuoy soap for calling my brother a liar. (I am certain he was at least fibbing.)

She liked to color in coloring books with us. She colored beautifully.

Mama wasn't much of a housekeeper. I did a lot of dishes growing up. She could sure grow roses though.

Mama went to Oklahoma City to get her dentures. She was wearing "Theater Red" lipstick when she returned. Her mouth looked huge.

Mama used to sing "In The Garden". I remember her singing:
                                      
Mama's little baby loves shortnin', shortnin'
Mama's little baby loves shortnin' bread
Mama's little baby loves shortnin', shortnin'
Mama's little baby loves shortnin' bread

Mama let me practice taking blood pressures on her when I started nursing school. She would have let me try to start an IV if I had asked.

She used to say she had "sometimers" instead of Alzheimer's. When I called to ask what she had done all day, she would say, "Not a durn thing." Sometimes she would say she had T.B. - tired butt.

Daddy said he loved her cooking. She made us corn meal mush for breakfast once. It wasn't too bad with lots of sugar and butter. She made pinto bean sandwiches for us too. They actually tasted pretty good. I am thinking we may have been poor. Even when she lived alone she would fix herself a meal instead of just snacking. She made chili once that had a ham bone in it. She had funny ideas.

Mama wanted to ride on my hubby's motorcycle but chickened out when he got there. He's a good man and loved my mama too.

Mama had a little dog named Buttons who, when mama got sick, would jump into the bathtub at night to go potty so she wouldn't have to get up and let him out.

Mama loved to crochet, and crochet, and crochet. She liked to smoke cigarettes while crocheting. Actually she liked to smoke cigarettes while doing everything. Her doctor shushed me when I scolded her though.

On the advise of her doctor, mama tried to drink a daily glass of wine. She said it tasted like spoiled grapes and gave it to daddy.

Mama woke up early and went to bed early. She called me every night though. Sometimes I was busy and  groaned when the phone rang.

Mama died fourteen years ago today. I wish she could call me.























Sunday, November 13, 2011

CHORES ARE DONE - BACK TO BLOGGING


Mission accomplished. Back to blogging


It turned out nothing is wrong with our air conditioner after all.
It was dust & lint. Go figure???

I cleaned this lamp but the one above the sink is too high for me to
reach. Honey do?

Poor Aunt Lizzy's stool covered in leaves.

It was so windy today there weren't as many to sweep
away as there was yesterday. It was almost 80
degrees today. This stool was my mama's that
Aunt Lizzy had at her house. She had it re-welded,
sand blasted and painted. She painted the little lily.
I love it.

A little high for me to dust too.


Looks much better now above the map of the portion of the
Arkansas river we live. Isn't the bottom portion shaped
somewhat like a galloping horse. My youngest granddaughter
noticed that - Sierra, my little artist. 
I could find no reason to keep the DNA

Much better.

Pajama bottom with ripped seam.

I'm just going to leave her here to think about what she
has done. The very idea...splitting right down the front.
Bath toys wanting to go upstairs.
They're a little closer. I don't make too many trips
upstairs.
If Barbie can tumble down the stairs, Nana can too.

My Bible Aunt Lizzy got me.

Reading in Judges - poor Samson.

Scrubs bicker when they spend too much time together.

Getting along together much better.

The whole group had become unruly.

They are now at attention facing me - well
except for Private Jergens in the back there.

They were not happy in their customary resting place in the corner.

I let them up on the bed for a while.

Comforter is too heavy for 80 degree weather. He'll have to stay on the
rocker for a while. The quilt was made by my Grandpa's mother.
Cotton batting and tiny stitches.

What's up with some of them just laying around on the floor?

They couldn't help it - no kick stands.


Insects trapped in spider's web.


Ungrateful little bugs - left a nasty residue.



Well, the streak was on the outside and there were
actually two long streaks of something
undetermined

Never did find out how the streaks got there.





Silly post, I know. But kinda' fun for me. I had such a great weekend. We got to see our kids and all the grandchildren who are already becoming busy with their little lives. But most of weekend was spent just me and hubby - and although it is unusual, it is not a bad thing. Now it's off to work for a week and a half  before Thanksgiving holiday.

Love to all who read this.