BEACH WEDDING!

i have news! BIG news! After 38 years of bachelorhood, my son has decided to tie the knot! He came home in the middle of the day yesterday and told me the news. I had been suspecting the announcement Sunday when they spent all evening with us at my friend's house. His sister and the nephews were all there and we just lounged on the deck all afternoon. It was the perfect time to announce the engagement, but apparently, he lost his nerve. No, he said he decided to tell me first privately. Could be that he was not certain of my reaction. He always dreads to tell me that he is going on a trip because he thinks that I stress about it. So he delays telling me when actually, I just need time to digest the news and pray about it. Anyhow, it is official. Plans have already been made for a beach wedding. He has always been determined to have a low-key wedding on a tropical beach, forgoing all the fal-de-ral that his sister loved so much. She had two big church weddings and did most of the preparations herself. I guess she thought she could do the same for him, but the bride-to-be was in total agreement with him. I am a little relieved, I admit. The two of them seem so happy that it is hard not to get immersed in the glow. She is an extremely striking young lady, and will make a beautiful bride. Her sister will be maid of honor and my son has asked his nephews to share the best men spot. I do not think tuxedo's will be worn because of the heat, although it is scheduled for sunset. I am trying not to think ahead to the changes in our living arrangements and the obstacles that stand in the way, and instead be happy in this joyous occasion and the marriage of my only son. Of course, I have my own fear of flying to overcome, and the fear of the unknown that has developed with age, in order to be part of the ceremony. However, a trip to the Virgin Islands and a paid vacation is hard to resist.

SHE'S HERE!

The new baby arrived to meet her family yesterday at 3:12 p.m. Her mother, my niece had been admitted to the hospital Monday night and her labor induced by an intravenous drip. The labor began in earnest around daybreak and proceeded slowly all day. I arrived around ten o'clock and tried to provide moral support for my anxious sister. After dilation reached 6, an epidural was given and there was some fear that it was wearing off around 1:00 and the anesthesiologist was called to give a little extra.. The pushing began in earnest around 2:45 and little Pateyn Brooke arrived soon after that. She weighed 8 lb. 3 ozs. She is a beautiful baby and will probably be blonde like her mother and sister. She has a pert little nose and big eyes and a sweet, little rosebud mouth. I can't wait to hold her. Her sister was hyper in the waiting room but unusually subdued when she met the baby. She was more excited to be going home with her little cousins to spend the night. It should be interesting to see if she is willing to share the limelight with the new baby. I came home exhausted. I must have pushed with every contraction, holding my breath with each one. I remember how tiring it can be to spend days (and nights ) in the hospital, with love ones. It is not the physical activity that drains one, but the emotional. I am so glad that it is over and we have a healthy baby. She is our miracle baby as her mother was stabbed on both sides of her abdomen, barely missing the baby with each wound. Now that the baby is here, her mother will have surgery on the hematoma that has formed on her leg between the three wounds there. The trauma of her mom 's attacked by a deranged total stranger while shopping in a local store is still causing her daughter to fear closed doors, all knives, and any absence of her mother. Hopefully the arrival of a sister will displace all those bad memories. I pray for health, and happiness for this young family. Thank you, Lord, for the blessings we have already received.

TRESPASSER

Well, I still haven't gotten that last rose planted. My lawn care men have not been here in three weeks now and with all the rain, my grass is very high. But not high enough to hide the trespasser that sneaked up behind me. When I turned and saw IT, my mattock went one way and I went the other. I haven't moved that fast in three years, since I hurt my knees. I paid for it yesterday evening, with pain all night. but I was moving on. I tried to call both my son and my friend and could not get in touch with either one. When I told them about it later, their mild unconcern ruffled my feathers, to say the least. As did their assurance that IT was long gone by then. Just passing through. So, today, I thought I'd keep my eyes pealed but get that rose into the hole that had been dug and abandoned. My eyes were darting to and fro and sure enough, I spotted the invader again, this time on my porch. I must have been slightly incoherent when I called my son at the office. The next thing I knew a police car pulled into the driveway and my good friend Jim began the search. He stopped once to ask me if I was sure that it wasn't a coil of television cable by the fence. He must have been convinced for he resumed his search and this time he saw it. He managed to use his trusty pepper spray before it went under some wood. He advised me to call the local "Mountain Man" who has many years of expertise in this field. My son called him and he came at once. It did not take him long to spot and capture his quarry. I tried to pay him but he refused and instead took the captured prey to his own barn, where IT was welcome as a rodent hunter. Good riddance. I have had a bad case of nerves since then, jumping at every thing I see or feel. It will take me a while to recover. In the meantime, I am sending that last rose to my daughter or putting it in a pot till next spring. If ever!

HOLIDAY HAVOC

Well, this holiday has come and gone, and I must admit that I am glad it's over. While I like to remember my departed loved ones on Memorial Day, I find that old emotions are stirred up and surface as raw spots. Perhaps it helps with healing deep wounds, but there are sad feelings when you place those floral tributes. My late husband's resting place is in a cemetery on a hill located on "The Trail of the Lonesome Pine," and actually is directly across from a tall pine that is silhouetted against the skyline. I always think of the Fox novel by that name when I see it. My daughter made a beautiful arrangement for her father. She can always outshine the florists on an arrangement. She loves flowers as much or more than I , and we spent Saturday touring all the local greenhouses. Her garden is incredible and her new found passion for roses is consuming all her free time. If the boys leave any, that is. She was searching for Jackson and Perkins climbers, "Blaze of Glory" and "Voluptious". She had seen them earlier and bought others instead and grieved because they got sold. She did not find them , but I bought three. These were my favorite ones that she has blooming. One is a double "Knock-out", and the other two are climbers; "Scent of Heaven" and "Double Delight". I planted two yesterday and trying to decide on a spot for the other one. Mine will never be as beautiful as hers (her pictures were accepted for an online garden magazine) but I am hoping for blooms. Daughter and SIL took their son to the airport yesterday to return to Iraq. She tried not to cry, in order for the departure to be easier for him, but she just couldn't help it. She said folks were coming up and thanking him for serving his country and it was very emotional. His two weeks home just flew by, with dinners and cookouts for him. He will be gone a year. Pray that all our boys will be home by then. Guess what! My niece had contractions last night. Doctor said she would not make it till June 1st, her due date. Today is her little girl's birthday. New baby made it past Mem Day, and if she isn't born today, she will get a day of her own to celebrate her birth. My niece is scheduled for surgery the 3rd, because of the hematoma on her leg. She is the one that was stabbed by a stranger in a store as related in a previous entry. Pray for an easy birth and a well baby. We took the grandsons to the Sunday School picnic and had a great time. We enjoyed the food and afterward there was a rousing softball game between the "Has-Beens" and the "Want-a-Bees." The Has+Beens were the over-35 bunch and held their own, even though accused of crowding the field. It was fun and frolic. Son and friend had made a short trip to Boone, N.C. a quaint little ski town and Grandfather Mountain and area. He was home yesterday and we just lounged all day. We wore P.J.'s most of the day. I was glad he had a day to rest. Me, too. No more holidays until the Fourth of July, and only one birthday in June. But I am already looking forward to those. Spring is hectic with so many events that one has to be reminded sometimes to "stop and smell the roses." Oh, yeah, that reminds me, I have one to plant. Catch ya later.

I MUST BE MURPHY!

Murphy's law is known by practically everyone, it seems. The likelihood that anything that can go wrong will go wrong seems sometimes to especially apply to me. It could be caused by my extreme "bumbling" instead of chance, do you think? Anyway, the chances of something going wrong are extremely ex "ass "erbated by getting in a hurry. Now, I am not a "hurry" type of person by nature, and as I age less than gracefully, seem to have slowed to a snail's pace. I have begun to dread any event for which I have a set time to arrive. This trait has become stronger since my retirement, since I no longer have to be at work on time, a fact that I am so enjoying thoroughly. That alarm clock has been thrown right out the window, something I've wanted to do for 20+ years. Oh, the joy of late morning sleep! I digress, back to timed events. That includes weddings, funerals, graduations, showers, and even church services. Since it is not "cool" to make a late entrance to any of these, I have now begun to question whether I even want to attend. Now I love going to church and I have years of non-attendance to make-up for so it is not an option to skip these services. The rest can be replaced with a card containing money in the preference of personal attendance, or so I rationalize when I am trying to talk myself out of going. It is not so much that I do not enjoy these outings once I get there (well, maybe not the funerals!) but the option of not going causes me not to be fully prepared for the occasion. I don't know why I do not purchase multiple items like pantyhose that I know I am going to need. It is inevitable to get a big "runner" at the last minute, causing the panic to well up in one's throat, knowing you have not allowed time for an emergency stop at the local Wal-mart. For instance, this weekend I attended a funeral that involved a four hour trip each way. Delay followed delay, almost as if a little demon planned the agenda to frustrate me. Some were insignificant things that could be shrugged off or changed. Others were major, like rain beginning while I was inside a rest stop bathroom. My hair does not react well to humidity, much less a downpour. (I could have taken an umbrella inside with me, but my not thinking ahead caused a frizzy do.) My appearance was nothing compared to major accident which occured a few cars ahead of us that blocked the highway with demolished vehicles, rescue squads, fire trucks, a wrecker, and an emergency heli- copter. The arrival of the chopper signaled us to turn around and retreat 30 minutes to another parkway exit which was an alternate route, but added another 30 minutes travel time. Now, things like accidents and rain storms are things that is beyond one's control, but it is small things that are more irritating. I am absent-minded at best. (Note the fact that I left my only curling iron in the hotel room when we left, causing an even worse hairdo the next day.) Knowing this weakness causes me to doubt my own self, generating paicked thoughts that spoil any event. For example, thinking "Did I or did I not leave the iron on?" or "Did I check the stove after I heated the soup?" or "Did I lock the front door after the unexjpected company arrived while I was getting dressed to leave?" A series of things like this is what causes my usually unruffled countenance to disintergrate. Since I abhor profanity, I have a few choice words , expletives , that explode unbidden at moments like these. I've noticed that it doesn't matter so much to me when others have to wait for me as the fact that I hate waiting for others. My friend has the need to be early for events, which I find is tiresome. He also wants to leave them early, while I, once I have got there, do not mind to linger and gab, knowing that he is fuming all the while. I like to be on time. If something starts at the stated time, I like to be there no more than three minutes prior. Needless to say, any small delay can cause one to enter sheepishly right behind the bridal party. Oh, well, I guess there is some- thing to be said for making a grand entrance. (and probably is said, in a mumbled undertone.) When will I learn? Probably never. I could apply several old adages that I have in my stock of philosophical references. Like "You can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear", and "You can't change a zebra's stripes". But also, "Better late than never!" and "You're never too old to learn". I have a tendency to pass the buck and blame some one or some thing for my failings, a common tendency, I've noted. I've recognized my weakness, now working on me, instead of blaming fate or even Murphy's Law will take some time and effort. I'll TRY!

RECESSION RECIPES

While preparing my traditional Thursday's spaghetti sauce, I had the random thought, "Nothing gives you as much bang for your buck than good ol' spaghetti"! Thankfully, all my family loves spaghetti with or without meatballs. I usually make a meat sauce because it is easier. I prefer a chunky tomato marinara, but my son likes it smooth. Anyway, it set me thinking about my frugal family food. I have written in prior posts about my mother's comfort cooking and how she loved feeding her extended family members. She loved cooking big pots of food to have simmering on the stove when family members strolled in unexpected. My parents and my husband's parents had all survived the depression era and adapted their menu's and recipes to fit the meager times. My era was not quite as deprived as theirs but they continued their simple food preparation mainly because they had become accustomed to it and even preferred it to more expensive dishes. My husband's favorite dishes were typical farm fare. We did not know at the time how loaded with fats, white flour and sugar could contribute to health problems like high blood pressure and cholesterol. We only knew that he loved gravy and biscuits with fried sausage, bacon or ham. Occasionally, he spoke longingly of his mother fixing Banner Brand sausage, a cheap canned version that was loaded with fat. I did not fry it , because I suspected that it was "mystery meat", even though he assured me that all the fat fried out leaving a unique flavor. The canned meats that I used were Treet and Spam and I came up with a delicious version of chopped ham for two. I sliced the small loaf almost through into six sections. Into each split, I would place a half-slice of pineapple and cover all with a glaze of mixed brown sugar and prepared mustard. Baked, it was great! Not exactly gourmet, but a welcome change from fried bologna (which he also loved, by the way.) Our standard staple was brown (pinto) beans and fried potatoes. (We called them Irish potatoes, because they saved many an Irish family from the famine.) Other beans were often cooked, white navy, lima and butter beans but never as often as our soup beans. These simmered all day on the stove and eaten with big pieces of corn bread and various pickled foods. We ate fresh green beans in summer and home canned ones in the winter time. Bushels of potatoes were covered in the ground in "tater holes", covered with straw and soil to prevent freezing. One of my husband's favorite meats was pork side meat that was salt preserved like country ham. He liked slices of it rolled in corn meal and fried crisp and golden. As a matter of fact, he liked anything rolled in corn meal and fried. We both would have eaten a ______ if it was rolled in corn meal and fried. LOL! No, we did not indulge in some of the ethnic dishes like "chittlings" and "mountain oysters" that were very cheap but my mother liked hog jowl and pickled pig's feet, but I could never even look at those dishes. She occasionally wanted some potted meat or vienna sausages even though she was not to eat that as she got older. She cooked some things with bacon renderings all her life and would not substitute oil for the fat in some dishes. Her German potato salad was loaded with bacon drippings. It is a good thing that the older generation worked so hard. There certainly was no need for exercise classes back then. Hoeing a cornfield would work off a multitude of sinful indulgences. Her biscuits were light and golden and her cornbread was perfect, and I suspect a little lard made the difference. She scorned green beans and pinto beans that were not cooked with a strip of "fat-back" meat. And it sure added flavor! I always made salmon croquettes (patties) as a special treat for my husband, because he loved them. I hated for the house to smell like fried fish so sometimes I fixed them on the porch in the electric skillet. He also liked chicken livers sometimes instead of buttermilk fried chicken or chicken and dumplings. Of course, we had lots of veggies, greens and baked dishes. In later years, I tried to limit fried foods as I became more health conscious but they remained his favorite foods all his life. My son grew away from our eating style while in college. He began to appreciate a more international cuisine. Plus, he often dined with his girlfriend of eight years. Her grand- father was a wealthy cattleman, among other things, and my son became a steak-lover during those years. To be honest, he never cared as much about our home-cooking as we did. He acts incredulous about some of the things we liked (I say he is a member of the spoiled generation of burger, pizza lovers.) sometimes when I have an especially "country"meal, he sneaks out to his favorite local steak-house. I don't know which is worse, our variety meats or his red meat. I guess to each his own. I think I have learned a more nutritious way of cooking. (Maybe! ) However, when the spectre of recession hovers over us, not to even mention dreaded depression, the old days and old ways do not seem so bad. A simple life was a good life when it was always seasoned with love.

I KNOW WHAT I WANT

After all this time, I have made up my mind. No more searching movie star magazines and hair style booklets for me. I am tired of trying to explain the style I want to my hair- stylist (if you can call her that) because no matter how I tell her about a new do, she cuts it the same way every time. I know what I want but apparently, so does she and she wins. The one time she changed was when I was relaxing with eyes closed while she did the comb-out and gasped when I looked in the mirror. I said, "But I do not part my hair in the middle. My face is too round!" This woman has been my stylist for three years now and I have never requested a center part. She has conveniently ignored the torn-out pictures of every starlet from Alba to Zeta- Jones, and every modern style I have seen or devised. I know it is hard to concentrate on snipping while carrying on a conversation on a cell phone tucked under her chin. Perhaps that is why I get a blunt cut when I request a layered look. Perhaps that is why I get a curly perm when I want just body. Maybe that is why I get orange instead of champagne blonde highlights. I get anxious when the timer has gone off several minutes before she returns from the back. But the cut, (Oh, my, the cut!) everyone knows that is the most important part. Last time when I examined the final results in the mirror, I gulped audibly. Then I began telling myself, "Don't panic, it will grow out. Your hair grows fast, it won't take long." Ha! A bad cut lasts FOREVER! And you have to live with it in the meantime. Of course, all the important occasions come around during this time of exasperation. She had the nerve to say ,the last time I went for a trim after a bad perm (she had said, I am going to use pink, then gray, then pink rollers this time and hope it will give you more body") that "Your hair seems a little dry." I did not say, " I have just had two hot oil treatments and a deep conditioning treatment at home!" I am not a difficult client. I hide my displeasure and write it off as lack of communication. But, I think I have a solution. I have found a picture of my- self that was taken twenty years ago, that has the style I want. It is beside the point that the face was thin with only one chin, the skin was smooth and unwrinkled, and the hair was thick and glossy. I am not asking for miracles. I know she does not do plastic surgery or tummy tucks or camoflauge make-up. Just please, please, for once can we do it my way?

Postscript

I had forgotten to include in my previous post the bit of news that inspired the whole thing. Among the highway hazards that I noted was the latest:: Motorists in the county adjacent to mine (where my friend lives) spotted a meteor descending in that vicinity one morning last week. At 6:30 a.m, early morning commuters on their way to work saw it come within a few hundred yards of earth before it split into two pieces. The newspaper quoted a scientist as saying it was a meteor instead of a meteorite because a meteorite would have disintergrated when it entered the atmosphere. He said it was probably farther south than reported . No debris has been found thus far. The article said that an average of 2 meteors a day hit the earth (or oceans) and that 40,000 tons of space material is added to the planet Earth each year. My question: Who weighed it? I will never understand how these calculations are arrived at but I find them fascinating, none the less. My falling rocks hazard does not seem quite as bad as a meteor strike. I think I heard somewhere that the city of Middlesboro, Ky is the only city known to have been built around a crater left by a meteor. Must have been a big one. Something to ponder while looking skyward. I wonder if the tool kit abandoned by the space shuttle can be seen orbiting the earth with a good telescope. Did you know that the Hubbell telescope was engineered by a Kentucky scientist? Anyhow , a fellow Kentuckian told me that. I must do a little research on Snopes.com before I pass on these things. In the meantime, watch for falling rocks.

HIGHWAY HAZARDS

I resolved to make my next post a happy one. Therefore, I have my work cut out for me since I chose the temporary title, "Highway Hazards". Well, where I liive you can encounter various types of hazards anytime you chose to go for a drive. The highways going north and south have both been built at great expense and effort since portions of them must be carved from limestone mountains, leaving highwalls that are terraced to protect from rockfalls. Drillmarks are evident from blasting and loose rock occasionally fall onto highways. Sometimes wire mesh fences are erected in the most dangerous places. We joke that a search still continues for a missing Indian chief named "Fallen Rocks" (and you can see signs telling you to watch for him! ) You may also see signs picturing a leaping deer at the usual deer crossings. That joke is that a elderly lady who had a deer crossing sign near her house called the Highway Department asking them to change the sign to somewhere else because "too many of those little fellas are getting killed there where it is nowl". I dunno. I'm not going to even comment on our supply of coal trucks, log trucks and Sunday drivers. we seem to have more than our share. I love where I live nestled in a valley between high mountains. A flatlander friend said, "How do you stand being closed in by mountains on both sides. You can't see the sky." But I can, you just have to..... " look to the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, who made heaven and earth"..... and I feel sheltered and protected by my beloved mountains. But I will be glad to see them green again.

I mentioned briefly, in my last post, that I, along with my family, had just endured a very traumatic event. That event could have ended the life of my precious niece and the life of her unborn child, as well. Her almost four- year-old daughter may have memories that will haunt her for a lifetime. Even I have had issues to overcome, as her aunt, and I can hardly imagine what my dear sister, her mother has endured. I can hardly answer questions when asked because of waves of nausea and trembling. So, I made the decision to write a short version of what happened as it was told to me. I hope this will be thereputic for me. Perhaps some of you will remember the short poem describing my niece, that I included in my previous journal. Here's a tidbit, " ............flower petal skin, like the purest porcelain. And the bluest eyes, beneath the skies,..............." This beautiful little girl that I love so much, is all grown up now with a little blonde miniature replica of herself that is now almost four and is eight months pregnant with another little girl baby. She and her daughter went shopping one morning last week. She became un- easy when she felt that she was being followed around the store by a stranger. The woman (age 34) did not look and act quite right, so my niece hurriedly took ;her selections to the check-out counter. My niece was suddenly attacked from behind by the woman, who slashed at her repeatedlly with a steak knife. She shielded the baby with her arms while she screamed for help. She said it seemed an eternity before another customer, a brave man, tackled the woman and pinned her arms until the police arrived. His wife helped to console my niece's daughter, while they were trying to control the bleeding. She had been viciously stabbed 6 times, along with numerous cuts on her arms. Two of the cuts were to the abdomen, one on either side of the baby, barely missing it (which they did not know at the time.) The one to the thigh proved to be most serious, as it entered the muscle. She was taken to a nearby hospital for emergency treatment, then later transported to a neo-natal hospital 150 miles away. An irregular heartbeat from the baby was probably caused by the stress. When my sister called me on the way there, she requested that I call my prayer chain , which I did, and I know that other local churches began praying for them. Praise God, the tests that followed showed a restored rhythm and that the baby was fine. My nieces wounds were treated and she was released on crutches the next day. We were told later that the woman had been released from jail the previous day. She had been imprisoned for stabbing another woman a few years ago. Apparently, she was mentally deranged, with a violent history. The shock of this happening has stunned our entire family and community. I can't begin to express how violated we still feel. Her little girl, in her grandmother's care, refused to go into a store because, "that woman might be there and kill me." Accidents are hard enough to cope with, but a vitriolic act of hatred and violence shakes one to the core. We warn our children to avoid dangerous places and people, but to not be able to feel safe in ordinary places in plain daylight just blows ones mind. It would be easy to slip into a vengeful mood of retaliation. I was helped very much by viewing a film on "20-20" a few nights ago. It showed a mother's journey to her forgiving the murderer of her small child abducted on a family camping trip. As she said, "Hatred can eat you alive." As a result of her efforts, the killer was captured and convicted. I definitely want my niece's attacker to recieve the treatment she must have. I am also praying that she will not be loosed upon society again until they are certain she is rid of the demons which obviously possess her. I pity her for her torment, but I embrace loved ones that I could so suddenly have lost. Thank God for answered\ prayers, and for sending that brave man to her rescue. I , along with my family, will be eternally grateful.

GONE TOO LONG

Hello! I am sheepishly back to blogging, for the time being anyway. Kinda like missing church for no good reason, one is reluctant to return for fear of having been spotted having fun. Well, I did enjoy a miniature vacation to the Smokies, but other than that, it has just been a hectic time for me. I tore into spring cleaning those few nice days in March, literally pulling out many things that had been stored away, or were cluttering my closets. I soon ran out of steam, not being as young as I once was, unfortunately. I attribute my lack of enthusiasm, which caused the postponing of cleaning, to the fact that the weather turned ugly and cold, and I just can't clean when it is dark and gloomy. That said, I left everything topsy turvy, waiting for sunny days. (Then, I will want to be outside, gardening!) Another reason for my dampened spirits involved a family drama, actually a tragedy, which I may or may not write about later. Thank God that the family member involved was protected by angels, I believe, that prevented an even worse result. I was terribly shaken by this event and definitely needed a brief vacation to gather my wits again. Happily, I'm back and recovering.

MY RADIO FLYER

My Radio Flyer has assumed a position of importance in my life. I received this red wagon as a gift from my late husband. His offbeat sense of humor was tickled by the idea, when I had mentioned that I needed something to move things around in the yard. I found a wheelbarrow to be too heavy and awkward for me to manage, and I was always needing some way to transfer plants, branches, and other debris that seems to accumulate. At first I was embarrassed to be seen pulling my red wagon around the yard. I would wait until there was no traffic on the nearby road and if a car chanced to come by, I'd drop the handle and appear to be busy elsewhere. Now , I pull it proudly and say, "What do I care if my wagon is getting worn and a little rusty? So am I." If anyone is embarrassed to see a little old lady pulling a red wagon, that is their problem. I will never forget the day the village "bad boy" stopped to see if I needed help! I have hauled load after load of wind blown branches from the silver birch tree in my yard over to a nearby field. In the fall, it drops millions of leaves on the ground around it. I rake, and bag and haul them away in my trusty wagon. I have just cleaned and prepped my flower beds for spring and loaded planters to haul back to their summer place. Each Monday I take my plastic bags filled with garbage from their cans down the long driveway to the bin for collection. Some are heavy so I transport in my Radio Flyer. My garage is across the road and anything I store has to be taken there. I have made many trips back and forth with items. Just yesterday, I needed a shelf for towels in my bathroom and I knew my daughter had a nice one stored there. So I took my wagon, loaded it carefully and gingerly pulled it up the driveway to my home. I have had a hard time accepting that I am not as young and vigorous as I used to be. Due to bad knees and back , I cannot lift and tug to things as I once did. I always enjoyed doing my own painting and papering, changing furniture around . Now I have to wait for some one to help. One fall from a ladder is more than enough. I just have to accept that at my age, I need help and not be too proud to ask for it. Anyhow, back to my little red wagon. I was telling my gentleman friend how much I depended upon it. He confided to me that the only toy he could remember getting from his father was a Radio Flyer wagon. His father died when my friend was five years old. Perhaps his father knew how useful the wagon would be, as my friend used it for years helping his family. He gathered many a load of firewood for them. So he could relate to my realization that like diamonds, "Wagons can be anyone's good friend." And to my late husband, a belated "Thank you, it was a wonderful gift!"

Trying to find someone

Hi, I am trying to find my blog.

SNOWFLAKE FRENZY

Today is the last of February and I wish that it would hurry. March will be welcome here for we have had a frosty year. As we are out tonight so late A friend's birthday to celebrate. The falling rain turned to sleet and soon iced the walk beneath my feet. On the long drive home, in the headlights glare the snow was swirling through the chilling air. It seemed like we centered the blowing snow as into the nucleus of it we drove, me and the man I love. The snow was a beautiful sight, sparkling in the shining light. It did not stay to give me fright. But vanished quickly tonight. To our homes we did arrive and I had to breathe a sigh for that lovely enchanted ride. It's so good to be alive. The weather now will be mild. After a winter that was wild. A few more days left to go to enjoy invigorating snow.

MAGIC CARPET

Yesterday was a beautiful day. We have been getting teasers this month when a sunshiney day will appear only to be followed by more blustery weather. Anyway, the temp was near 60 and I so wanted to be outside that I was willing to clean or weed or anything in order to soak up a few rays. I suffer from S.A.D. anyway and at winter's end, I need real sunshine to warm my aching bones and lift my spirits. So, I decided to clean my sorely neglected porches. I was planning to move the glass-topped table and chairs from the upstairs porch down to the one near my driveway, but I soon realized that was much too big a project for me so I decided to postpone that chore and to tackle the carpet instead. I had a piece of indoor-outdoor carpet (8X10', or there- abouts) that had a glider and a setee and a small table on it, which I scooted off to the side. The only water hose that is hooked up now would not reach to the upstairs porch. I rolled up the carpet and threw it over the railing. As it was getting late with me expecting my "date", I decided I'd best wait till today to scrub it down. So I pulled and tugged until I got it spread lengthwise on the chain link fence out back. It really isn't all that heavy until it is wet. So I went merrily on my way and forgot all about it until I had gone to bed when it briefly crossed my mind. The wind was blowing strong, howling gusts. We have had March winds early this years, trouble with trees blowing down and such. I awoke before daylight around six, I guess and I could hear the rain pouring down outside. I remembered how strong the wind was blowing last night and thought, "I'd better look." Our lot is at a "Y" where two roads intersect and the wind comes sweeping down from both directions. I have learned not to leave baskets, patio cushions, etc. out or I will be retrieving them from across the highway. Right now I have four garbage cans that are minus their lids. After many rescues, they are gone forever perhaps in the nearby swollen stream. My garbage service was always leaving them off anyway. Well, I digress, on with my tale, or fable, or whatever it is. I turned on the outside floodlight facing the back fence. No rug! I peered right and left and saw no sign of it. It was still raining so I did not venture out and waited until later in the morning. But as I drank my morning cuppa, a stray thought crossed my mind. What if...........what if my rug had blown out in the road in front of a passing motorist?? Would they think it was a UFO, or maybe Aladdin's magic carpet? I thought wistfully of an inside joke that my late husband and I shared throughout many years. Once I asked him if he knew where my broom was and he smart-alecked back with, "Why, you going for a ride?" Could I let that pass with a wry smile and go on. Oh, no! I got so irate with ruffled feathers that he enjoyed it so much that he used it time and again to annoy me and it never failed to do so. I always told my kids to ignore joking as it only encouraged jokers to tease and poke fun but I couldn't follow my own advice this time. I do miss his offbeat humor and good nature. It helped us through some tough times. I got side-tracked again, didn't I? To conclude, I found my magic carpet in a ditch line at least 30 feet from the fence. Can you imagine wind strong enough to blow a big piece of carpet that far? I finally got it scrubbed and laid out to dry on the steps to the barbecue shed. But I am going to keep an eye out for a genie, now what would I wish for? As a postscript, we are supposedly getting SNOW tomorrow and Sunday. No, No, I reject that forecast. I want more sun. I object, I reject, I will fly to Florida.

TURBULENCE

Nightime snows blanket the ground, and muffle the noises from all around. The stillness echoes without a sound. A picturesque place, a stately home , but inside the family emotions churn. The friction worsens and anger burns. Tempers erupt and spew out insults. A sterner discipline will be the results. Teenagers feel caged and ache to explore. Even mother and father are weary and sore. It seems that all peace has flown out the door. Please don't despair, it will return as before. The bright morning sun will melt all the snow, and you will be free again to come and to go. Spirits will soar, and you won't feel so low. Winter will flee and the snows turn to rain. Hearts will be light and you'll be happy again. So, in the meantime, just try to remain sane. Spring will return with its warmth and its cheer. You won't even remember why you felt so drear. Cabin fever will pass, or at least for this year. Spring will return with warmth and with cheer. You won't even remember why you felt so drear.

BACK TO THE GRIND

Hello! Well, my brief sabbatical is over, so I am back to blogging. I thought I would wait for something great to relate, but alas, that could take forever, so I am stuck with the mini- events that make up my ordinary but wonderful life. One of the perks of aging, in my humble opinion, is being able to experience youth again vicariously, through the grandchildren. You can use their energy to participate in sports, social events and academics without having to expend your own, except for cheers and praises. Of course, one must curb their enthusiasm , especially at ballgames, in order not to distract the foul-shooter or embarrass the player in front of his friends. Kisses are especially a no-no. And hugs. Definitely, do not call out pet names or BABY, regardless of how many times you have diapered that six-foot shooter in the past. Oh, by the way, if you are privileged to take your newly dating grandson and his beautiful cheerleader girlfriend to a buffet lunch after church, follow their lead and eat like a little birdie. No loading that plate down. Mince lightly, and do not relate tales from the young man's childhood. He wants to be percieved as a man with no parents and no past, I suppose. It would be better if you did not open your mouth at all, except to tell them to have a good time at the movie. No, strike that , too! I am getting better at following my detailed instructions. I know that if he gets hurt playing ball, I am NOT to run out on the floor, and to keep an immobile face while he is being revived. No shouting at the referree, either. Proper dress for parents/grandparents is very , very, important to teens. Dress should be conservative, not to draw attention, but not old and fuddy-duddy. Beside the point that they are wearing new jeans with holes on the knees and pockets, and hoodies with weird names like Abercrombie and Hollister. Go figure. I had become paranoid about such things as causing my teens to die from embarrassment. That is until the mother of the above mentioned cheerleader told me that she had been thinking that G-Son Tyler was shy until she took the couple to the Mall on Friday. She said that a dress-up day was scheduled for this coming week at school. an event both kids enjoy. She purchased a Hannah Montana wig for her daughter to wear, and was astonished when shy Tyler wore it all over the mall. He has always liked costumes. When he was two or three years old, he would have a towel tied around his neck to make a Superman cape and could terrify us for hours jumping from the furniture. While I encourage him to become a doctor, I secretly think he would make a great actor. He has the looks for it and he was a hit in the Christmas play at church. But right now, ball games and girls are his focus. Yes, it is wonderful to relive your youth through your grandchildren and give them the things you wistfully wish you could have had, but just remember, if you want to keep your good standing and be allowed this privilege, you best WATCH YOUR STEP and get that silly grin off your face!

Blue Moon

EGGS-ACTLY RIGHT!

Thank God IT'S FRIDAY! Or thank God if it is Monday, or Tuesday, or any other day of the week. We have a lot to be thankful for and every day should be filled with gratitude to live yet another day. And thankful to live in the USA . With all her problems, she is still the best nation on earth, in my opinion. Guess what, I ate an egg this morning! I probably do not eat a half-dozen a year scrambled or fried. I bake with them and I like deviled eggs but I really could live without them entirely. But this morning I made myself a loaded omelet. Bacon bits, diced peppers, and cheese. then I had to have catsup. This egg was a medium size but when I broke it, it had two yolks. That rarely happens, and I really do not like to think about it, but anyway.........I am reminded of an old Archie Bunker show where he was gagging and carrying on because Edith said she liked hog jowl and he said, "I can't believe you'd eat something from a hog's mouth." To which Edith calmly replied, "Well, Archie, you eat eggs, don't you? Nuff sed. I am making a meat loaf for supper and the aroma is reachin in here. I don't make one often as there's only the two of us. I like it cold for sandwiches later. Not on my son's favorite list, though he likes spaghetti, lasagna and burgers. I tell him it is all the same ingredients but he insists that it isn't. (I also tell him that Mexican is all the same, just different names prepared a little differently. My meatloaf is pretty good. I have eaten others that I like better than mine. I use oatmeal for a binder and to slip in something good for us, and NO! I do not use an egg in it , do you?

WIPE-OUT!

That's an old surfing term, wipe-out that is, from back in my younger days. Oh, well, in my imagination, at least. Fact is, I wrote a rather long post on January 5, and totally erased it, and I do not know what I did. Guess I'll test the tides by publishing this before I go any farther. I was quite annoyed and I pouted a few days before trying again. I wish I wasn't such a novice at the computer. Heck, you should have seen the ancient Remington that I learned to type on, then you'd say, "You've come a long way, baby!" In case I lose this and it floats forever out there in cyberspace, I have only one thing to say, and that is: Life's a beach, isn't it? Life's a beach,