My deepest apologies

     I have to apologize for being away from my blogs for the past several days.  I have lots of news to share, very soon and I will be back, just as soon as I can.  Please bear with me.  I’ll be busy throughout the weekend, but as The Terminator might say, “I’ll be BACK!”

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.



As Long As He Knows Its His Fault

     Ya’ know how some days its hard to do anything wrong?  No?  Oh.  Well, neither do I.  Then, ya’ know how easy it is to blame someone else?  No?  Oh.  Well, I don’t, either.  However, I might know a little bit about how it’s natural to yell for the nearest possible Blamee helper when things don’t work out quite the way I want them to.

     Okay, here’s how it all unfolded:  there I was, minding my own business.  I reached for a book and, before I knew what had happened, the cup of milk I wanted to dunk my graham crackers in was lounging all over my pants legs and socks.  Well, no, that’s not right, either.  See, the cup had stayed behind, apparently offering up its contents as some kind of sacrifice or sick joke.  At any rate, I was surrounded by milk in every direction.  All over the floor, my clothes, my shoes and… my self-esteem.

     Who did I call?  “My Good Hubby-Buddy!”

     Well, no, I didn’t exactly say it like that.  He does have a nickname, ya’ know?  “MGHB!”

     The point is, the milk hadn’t even reached the floor, before his name had attacked his ears.  For about half a second, I contemplated how this could possibly be his fault.  Fortunately, I tucked that thought safely away for when I would REALLY need it.  I say fortunately because I’m sure, if I had tried to blame my good hubby-buddy, he would not have been nearly as helpful as he was.  Since I was all sweet and loving and didn’t blame him for what was obviously his fault, he helped remove the results of his clumsiness.

     In case you’re wondering how this became his fault, I should explain that we established years ago that when things go right, I am the hero and when they go wrong, it is his fault.  It keeps all that nasty decision-making to a minimum, when a situation calls for our quick thinking.

     So, before you find yourself in a similar situation, be sure to have a discussion with your hubby-buddy to establish some ground-rules.  If you work it right, he might just think that it was his idea.  Then, everybody’s happy, right?

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.



Saturday Should NOT Fall On Monday!

     Yee-Haw!  I have finally figured out that Friday through Monday are VERY  busy days.  In fact, Tuesday through Thursday aren’t terribly slack, if you ask me.  How do so many of you do it?  How do you have specific days for what you write?  I’ve tried.  I’ve really, really tried to break it down so I could have Saturdays for games.  Evidently, though, its not gonna’ work out, that way.

     I still wanna’ post word games for you, though.  In the first place, you seem to enjoy them.  In the second place, I love making them.  And in the third place, well.  hmmmm.  Well, I just don’t know what the third place is.  A little help?

     So, here’s what I was thinking:  Instead of posting a game on the same day each week, I will post a game as often as seems reasonable (hopefully, at least once a week) and you can come here and play.  Also, instead of waiting to post the answers on another day, how’s about I have a place where the answers Live?  That way, when you feel you have your puzzle solved, you can check and make sure.  Sound like a plan?

     Any thoughts on this would be greatly appreciated.  I’ll let you in on a little secret, too.  I Loooooove blogging.  In fact, I think my mama was right.  She said that I loved to talk so much that, one day, if I wasn’t careful, I would run out of words.  Hah!  I think I may have found a way around that little problem.  As long as I can write and share on my blogs, I can talk and talk and talk and NEVER run out of words on accounta’ I’m not really speaking!  Am I clever, or what?
     I’ll put a link on each of my other blogs so everyone will know what’s happening.  In this way, when I am in a Game-Making mood, I can Have a Ball.  And when I feel like sharing stories, well, I can do that, too.  Whaddya’ think?  Is this something that you might enjoy?  Lemme’ know your thoughts and we’ll work from there, k?  Thank you all for your support and kind words.  So many of you have given me great advice and continue to help me out in so many ways.  I truly appreciate it, more than I can say.  So, don’t be shy.  Keep sharing your views with me.  And ’til the next time, keep a hug on.



I Am NOT A Houseplant!

     My good hubby-buddy says I’m turning into a houseplant.  I don’t think I am because I checked my fingers and all my toes and there are no signs of twigs or branches that I can see.  Just because I’ve only been out of the house perhaps a dozen times in the last seven months doesen’t make me a houseplant, ya’ know.  Silly Hubby-Buddy.

     So, yesterday, he talked me into going out to the store with him.  It was a little odd when I stepped out into the daylight and was compelled to turn my face toward the sun.  Well, no.  I s’pose that’s natural.  However, I’m still trying to figure out why my arms suddenly rose and my hands began reacting much like sunflowers, with the palms following the warmth as if they needed nourishment of whatever it is that the sun offers.  Ah!  Maybe I was just yawning and stretching and didn’t notice.  Because I am not turning into a houseplant.  Nosirrrrreeee!  I am not.

     We decided to drive around a little bit and look at some of the houses.  We haven’t done this in awhile and I must admit, I do enjoy a relaxing drive.  At one point, as we headed west, we were gifted with the most gorgeous burst of fire in the sky.  It was as if the sun suddenly realized what time of day it was and threw all her beauty out at once in a blast of sunset.

     My body leaped forward, hands resting against the window, palms up.  I craned my neck towards the last moments of light and closed my eyes… almost all the way.  I didn’t want to miss the beauty that had been offered, after all, and every part of me stretched to enjoy the warmth of Mother Nature’s bounty.  But its not because I’m turning into a houseplant because I’m not.  Turning into a houseplant, I mean.  I’m not a houseplant.

     As we arrived back home, the red-gold beauty in the sky  was just about to fade into the far horizon.  I stepped out of the car and turned toward the west.  I stretched as far as these tired bones would allow.  Then, curiously, I began to relax, my head slowly drooping and arms resting against my sides.

     My good hubby-buddy, having parked the car, walked towards me and asked, “What are you doing?”

     “What?  Oh, nothing,” I responded nervously, straightening up and heading into the house.

     “You look like a sunflower at the end of the day.”  Hubby-Buddy quipped.

     “No, I don’t!  I’m just tired.”

     “I knew it!  You really are turning into a houseplant!”  He was beginning to annoy me.

     I hurried inside and found a comfortable place where I could just vegetate.  Now, I ask you, does that sound like I’m turning into a houseplant?  I don’t think so.

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.



My Brothers And The High-Heeled Shoes

     I was raised with three brothers, two older and one younger.  My sister was born many years later and we were mostly grown, by the time she came on the scene.  As the only girl amongst boys, I had a tendency to lean more towards being a tomboy than girly things.  As I got older, I guess my brothers, particularly Oldest Brother and Second Brother, felt the need to help me lean back the other way.

     I was eleven years old and in fifth grade.  There was a pre-teen dance coming up and I had been asked to go with a young man from my class.  Although I always thought of this as my first date, I can’t really think it was a date.  In the first place, my dad drove me to his house to pick Ronnie up and at the end of the two hour dance, my dad returned to deliver us both back home, him first, of course.  But I’m getting waaaaaaaay ahead of the story, here.

     On the day of the dance, it being Saturday, my mama took me shopping for my very first pair of high heeled shoes.  How clearly I remember, they were a full one inch tall.  I thought I was gonna’ stop the show.  I was sooooo proud.

     When I got home, I couldn’t wait to put those shoes on and show ’em off.  I must have put on quite a display because Oldest Brother and Second Brother immediately took me in hand.  We lived in an appartment that had a long hall and Oldest Brother and Second Brother kept me there for the next four hours, learning how to walk in heels.  Thank Heavens those shoes only had one-inch heels.  I might have killed myself in them, otherwise.  Who knew that walking in heels was NOTHING like clunking around in sneakers?!?

     At the time, I couldn’t care less if my brothers thought I looked like I was walking through a field, dodging cow patties.  Looking back, though, its one of my favorite memories.  That my brothers cared enough to stay with me for four long hours is amazing.  After all, they were teenagers, with buddies and girlfriends and lives of their own.  I have often wondered, though, if others brothers do the same for their sisters.

     Do you have a favorite memory from your childhood?  I surely hope you write it down for your posterity.  Until the next time, keep a hug on.



Two Famous Roosters

     Perhaps you’ve read some of my posts about what great farming skills my family displayed while we lived in the country?  If so, then you know that one of our better talents was loving the animals.  In fact, we loved them so much that we didn’t eat our own animals.  They were our friends, after all.

     Well, let me tell you about two of our friends.  One was named Cogburn.  The other we called Captain Hook.  The story of how they acquired such names is very interesting, but that’s for another time.  For now, I’d like to tell you how these roosters gained fame in the neighborhood.

     One of the more interesting and less desirable jobs, when you raise chickens, is slaughter day.  Since we knew that slaughter day was coming up, we told our children to find some way of marking the two young roosters that had become family pets so they wouldn’t wind up in the soup  Not ours, of course.  Trusting that the kids would find a way to follow through on this task, we said no more, until the day arrived.

     Shortly before we started setting up the necessary equipment for getting the job done, we noticed that the roosters had, indeed, been marked… all over.  The mark was only supposed to last for a couple of days.  Who knew the kids would use food coloring?  And who knew chicken feathers would soak up the color so well?

     For weeks, Rooster Cogburn and Captain Hook pranced around, just as if they knew they were the only blue roosters on the planet.  Then, about three weeks later, someone offered us $300 apiece for those little beauties.  It was awfully tempting, that’s for sure, but we knew we couldn’t sell ’em.  They were our friends, after all

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.



Mother Nature’s Best Trick

     Its not quite 7:00 AM and I have been up for several hours.  It appears that the blizzard is calming down, although I am very guarded about whether this is true or just a lull in Mother Nature’s fury.  Maybe today will bring warmth and sunshine, eh?  I certainly hope so.  On Red Wagon Flights, I have posted about my very first giveaway.  I would love it if you’d check it out and enter.

     Mother Nature does seem to be carrying an attitude, this winter, don’tcha’ think?  It might interest you to know that last Friday the United States was blessed with a remarkable phenomenon.  Originally, I thought that snow had fallen in every state in the US, except Hawaii.  As it turns out, I was wrong.  Hawaii also had snow.

     I don’t know how this information makes you feel.  I am doing a happy dance because it happened in MY Lifetime!  Can you believe it?  Snow in all fifty states on the same day!  Very, very coooool, if you ask me.  No pun intended, but of course, it was kind of a neat accident, wasn’t it?

     Be sure to wrap up warmly and stay inside.  I’m not sure that Mother Nature is ready for us to go outside, quite yet.  Until the next time, keep a hug on.