Its Coming! Its Coming!

     I can’t believe it.  Its finally Almost Here.  I’ve waited Aaaaalllll year.  Now, I can finally say its almost here.  This is my absolute favorite time of the year.  Tomorrow we will begin to decorate for the wonderful event that the whooooole world will help me celebrate.

     Don’t you just love this time of year?  Everyone seems so friendly and kind.  Pretty lights are everywhere.  People think Snow, no matter if they are at the equator.  Okay, okay.  Maybe no one else does really, but I do and as long as I am thinking snow, well, I just know that everyone else is helping me to think it.  After all, doesn’t everyone want snow for Christmas?  Surely, Christmas can’t come without snow, can it?

     When I was about 14 years old, we took a trip from South Carolina to Florida and then, Maine.  I don’t recall where we were on any of the other days, but I remember that we were in Florida on Christmas day and Maine on New Year’s Day.  In Florida it was hot and humid and I was not impressed.  Of course, at 14, I’m sure that I didn’t think I was supposed to be impressed by anything.

     We stayed at a Holiday Inn and there was a pool.  My little brother, 3 years younger than I, were very close.  That is, until he broke the cardinal rule.  On Christmas day, he had the audacity to go swimming.  Swimming!  What was he thinking?  Christmas is not for swimming.  Christmas is for snow skiing and sledding, snowmen and forts.  I was crushed!  Betrayed by my own partner in crime.  By afternoon, I managed to work my way through my little attitude, thanks to the continuing heat and discomfort, and joined him for a nice cool dip in the pool.  And naturally, we are still very close.

     Isn’t it funny, some of the ideas we grasp onto?  Do you ever wonder where some of them come from?  It seems there are superstitions and wild-hairs about everything; black cats, ladders, salt, spiders and the list goes on.  Do you have memories of unique ideas that caused you to change the ways you’ve done things?


The tortured child

      Grown-ups always like to say things to confuse kids.  Have you ever noticed that?
     “If you think you’re going to get away with this, young lady, you’ve got another think coming!”

     “Another think coming” – – – just what do adults mean by that?  Grown-ups always say things like that. Like, “Behave yourself.” Did you ever wonder about that one? I mean, it’s so hard to concentrate on anything else she’s saying because I’m still working on “Behave yourself.”  And I’m being as ‘Have’ as I know how to be. (Please note the long ‘A’ on that word)
     I just hate it when grown-ups think up all these confusing phrases. Everybody knows they only do that to confuse kids. It works, too.  I’m still pondering the cruelty of the phrase, “Behave yourself.”

     What kinds of things did the adults in your life use to make your life miserable?  I’m just really anxious to learn if Behave was a word created just for torture purposes or if it really has a purpose.


Today, I cried

     I haven’t been blogging for very long, perhaps two or three months, once I actually understood a little of how to find my way around.  I enjoy it so much and I now understand the emotion that so many others express.  You see, I did not expect to care.  I thought that blogging was a world of anonymity.  A one-on-one relationship with my computer.

     Not too long ago, I met someone who was taken to the depths of despair by a loss that I have come too close to experiencing in my own life.  Twice.  When my new bloggie friend shared her own experiences, her description was such that I. Was. There.  I felt every emotion she felt.  The tree she leaned on also left marks on the side of my face as my tears joined hers in silent, heart-wrenching sobs.

     Though I have not met this lady in person and I have only known her for a very short time through Bloglandia, she is now in my heart to stay.  Are there things you were surprised by in becoming a blogger?  What experiences have you had?


A Baby’s First Thanksgiving

     It was my first son’s first Thanksgiving and we wanted it to be special.  He was only five months old and couldn’t possibly remember anything about it, but we really wanted to make it something we could tell him about as he grew.  How could we make this Thanksgiving Day memorable for him?

     Then, it happened.  We got word that we would be moving and we had all of one day to get ‘er done.  The landlord didn’t want us to leave, but something about living in a mouse-infested trailer house just failed to make me wanna’ stay.  Go figure, huh?  When we got the word that we had another option, we jumped on it.

     So, on Thanksgiving Day, we woke up early and stayed up late.  We hadn’t learned of the mice until too late in our previous dwelling.  (I was never quite able to think of that place as home.)  This time, we had made sure there were no extra occupants and we were SO. READY. to. go.

     Finally, at 11:45 that night, we sat down to my baby’s first Thanksgiving Dinner, one which he was also able to participate in, in spite of nursing.  I can say with all honesty that, after living for two months with the pitter-patter of little mouse feet, it was one of the best meals of Oyster Stew I have ever made.  And I no longer had to worry that something would capture one of us while we slept.

     Oh, and did I mention that we managed to make it a memorable day?


Fun in the sun, sand or sink… or, wherever you like to write

     Do you write?  I mean, are you a writer of, say, children’s stories?  Or, maybe you like to write romance?  Are you a Cruciverbalist?  Perhaps there’s a hidden Harry Potter in your heart?

      Well, I like to do it all.  Don’t hold me back!  If it can be written, I’m a’ gonna’ try it.  Oh, wait!  I take that back.  When it comes to scary, I can get pretty creative in how many ways there are to hide out.  Blood and guts?  Nope!  Don’t want any part of it.  And the ‘S_ x’ word?  Well, ya’ know.

      But give me a good Golden Book to read and I’m off!  Look out, Pooh!  I’m gonna’ read you.  Junie B. Jones?  You bet your sweet bones!  And of course, I try to read all the new ones that I can;  Bubble Homes and Fish Farts, Don’t Let the Pigeon… (whatever the pigeon is trying to do at the time), Crocodaddy, Janoose the Goose and sooooooo many others.

     Now, here’s the big question; how fast can you think?  I was just made aware of a really cooooool challenge and if you are into writing picture books , you might like to head on over there, too.  Its called PiBoIdMo.  Now, you understand completely, don’t you?  hahahahaha.

     It means Picture Book Idea Month and Tara Lazar has come up with the greatest idea for those who aspire to writing picture books.  Come up with a new idea every day in the month of November.  I can’t explain it all here, but if you head on over there, you can check it out.  Then, think fast.  Think really, really fast ’cause the end of the month is just a blink and a puff away.

     So, HURRY, already!


We Danced ~ ~ ~

     Every once in awhile, something happens that says, “You are still on the right path.”  Last night, my good hubby-buddy had his moment to remind him that continuous effort is still the best way to achieve continuous success.

     Years ago, I was working many hours every day and night, as was my good husband and doing all we could to still spend time with our children and know the happiness that comes from love in the home.  At one point, my hubby decided to enter a Chilli Cook-Off.  He enjoys cooking and it was his hope to take one of the three winning ribbons.
      His preparations were extensive and we were all excited about the coming event.  I don’t recall what the prize was; something small, I believe.  A theater ticket or a ribbon.  It wasn’t the prize that inspired him, anyway.  He wanted to show our children that they could do anything they set their minds to do.


     The big day arrived and all was ready.  I left the house to collect the papers at the newspaper office so I could deliver them for the kids to sell and deliver to various offices.  They had built up quite a large number of repeat customers.

     But this day was different.  Instead of collecting the papers when I arrived at the office, I was informed that one of my sons had been hit by a car and I was to go directly to the hospital.  I cannot describe how devastating it was to watch my son suffer from so many broken bones and hooked up to wires and tubes.

     Needless to say, the Chilli Cook-Off was forgotten and we were flown with our son to a bigger hospital several hundred miles away.  Fortunately, our son recovered and I can honestly say I believe in miracles.

    My good husband is such a nice person.  When we moved into our new home, he sent me right to my new office and said, “Write.  You have supported me all the years we’ve been married.  Now, its your turn to do what you want, so Write!”

     And that is all I do… Write, all day or all night long.  My hubby-buddy takes care of everything.  Well, we recently heard that our new town would be hosting a Chilli Cook-Off, so my good hubby decided to enter. He was so excited to finally be getting another chance.

     And now, I am proud to announce that last night, my wonderful husband was declared the Winner.  I knew he was a great cook and now, others know it, too.  Today, we took the extra chilli to Church and enjoyed visiting with friends while sharing my hubby’s Award-Winning Chilli.  Tonight, we celebrated in our own way when, in our kitchen… We Danced.


Gramma’ carried a BIG pistol

     When my gramma’ was just a girl, she learned to use a gun with apparent accuracy and… NO FEAR.  I’ve often wondered what was behind her learning such a skill and wished I could have talked her into telling me more of what her life was like before she was my gramma’.
     For all of her size ~ ~ ~ she was 4’11” tall, or there abouts, she was the kind of person that people didn’t mess with.  For starters, she always carried a BIG pistol.  To fire that pistol, she would throw her left arm up for support and balance the pistol across that arm.  The joke was that the pistol was bigger than she was, even when she was an adult.

     I recall hearing of one incident when someone thought he was gonna’ hurt someone my gramma’ cared about.  That was one thing.  Once you found your way into Gramma’s heart, Outsiders did not have the option of saying or doing anything that Gramma’ perceived as ugly.
     Anyway, this outsider thought that he was gonna’ hurt someone whom my gramma’ cared about.  When she threw that pistol over her arm for balance, he laughed and said she didn’t have the nerve to pull the trigger.  In fact, he said that just before she pulled the trigger and shot a hole in his shirt, so close that he felt the air whistle by as the bullet whizzed through.  See, that was another thing that my gramma’ didn’t take kindly to; a dare.

     Do you know some of the colorful stories from your family’s past?  I do hope you write them down so they won’t be forgotten.  Its a shame to realize how many memorable incidents have been forgotten because no one wrote them down.