Wearing O' the Green.



 

Today is St. Patrick's Day.

And I didn't wear green.

I didn't get pinched either.

I'm not a very holidayee person.
Must be getting old.  Old and grumpy.  For sure.

Once, when I was little

I remember going down into

our basement to get my pants out of the dryer.

They were made of polyester and had

a blue and red patchwork pattern on them.  LoOved them.

But, Mom wouldn't let me wear them

 because it was St. Patrick's Day and there

wasn't any green on them.

When you're 4 and your brother's 8

it's not safe to be taking such risks. 

Darin would've been forced to pinch me. 

He would've had no other choice.  Cause that's the kind of brother he is.

And traditions are not to be taken lightly.

Oh.  And as a side note.  He can pinch with his
toes too.  And pick things up with them. 
He's multi-talented.

Good thing I didn't see him today.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Heartache in Japan.



view from our side deck last fall



  Today, like you, I awoke to the news of the

tragedy that took place in Japan over night.  In just a few minutes

lives were changed forever. 

I could only imagine their heartache, as feelings of empathy

washed over me.  Yet the gratitude that I felt, because

my family, was safe in their beds, did not escape me.

I wanted to hold them close, and tell them that

I loved them, and then tuck them safely under

my wing.  But they were still asleep.

So, I gave softly placed kisses instead.

As I write this, it's morning there now.

Life is already moving on.

Sadly, in time, for those far removed, it will be old news.

I hope to never know the sorrow, and pain they feel.

I hope you don't either.

What Not To Wear.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

This picture is no different.   I'm guessing we're about 3.

I remember it for two reasons

1.  I did not like the outfit.

2.  I didn't like the man taking the picture because

he was trying to make me smile.

I remember Mom dressing us in front

 of the sandstone fireplace

 all the while trying to convince me to

   wear the outfit because it was cute.

 I wasn't buying it.

     And there was absolutely no way I was gonna smile dressed like that.

To make matters worse, Mandy could have cared less. 

                                                               

 The scandal of it all.

    Occasionally, I have had clothing wars with my children.

    For the most part now, I've learned that if I like a piece

   of clothing, they will hate it.
And some day, I'm sure I'll hear about
the outfit that I made them wear.
I can hardly wait.

Here's to priceless Olan Mills pictures!

        Oh, and just so you know this sweet little face is the 

                                same sweet face involved in the sugar bowl scandal of 1979. 

                               

 

How to Raise a Boy.

This is Doodle.  Minutes before he finished my soda at the ball field.

In the heat of The Summer with record heat waves.  And one concession stand.  Two fields away.

Such a thoughtful boy.

He has the softest hair ever.  Really.  And it always smells good .

Even when the rest of him smells like boy stink.

I know because I sniff it when I give him hugs.

Its a high. 

I know.  Weird.

He is one of two reasons why Red Dye # 40 is banned in our home,

and sugar before bed,

and why earplugs are on my list for Wal Mart.

Oh, and he's the main offender of the basketball ban.

He's growing like a weed.  Which makes me daydream

about the day when he will be taller than me, and I can't sniff his

hair anymore, and then I think about him

going on a mission, and getting married...

 then I hyperventilate.

And I cry.

Then I hear the basketball bouncing off the hallway walls

C'est la vie!

Now go sniff your boys hair before he's too tall.

Or your daughter. 

Either will do.

 

Long Time No See.

We say that around here when someone falls off the face of the Earth.

Like I did.  Sorry.  I have no good excuse.  Only that I've been up to a lot

and my computer sucks.  I wanted a laptop for Christmas.  But no. 

Then my birthday.  Again no.  Someone is not listening. *Ahem*

So therefore when the dinosaur computer

finally bit the dust my little bloggy was put on hold. 

 Such is the life of a ghetto queen.

*sigh* 

But now I'm back.  And have I been up to a lot?  Yes in deedy.  Since we last visited

just two brief months ago....

The in- laws celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary,

Dad had a birthday,

                                                       There were lots of Christmas parties,

                                                            and Christmas morning.

                                 Then we had baby goats. Lost a goat. Bottle fed the other one.
                                   Now trying to convince him that his home is in the barn.

                                                            

                                                               And we had a birthday!

                                           Plus, I repainted my dining room and survived the the flu!
                                                                      Now. That’s a lot.



How Snot To Eat Your Lunch.

Today, I had this for lunch.

Being a lover all things spicy,

I get that from my Dad,

I chose this culinary staple.

Yummy it was.

Hot it was.

 So, my nose started to do the drippy thing.

I seriously contemplated using
  nose tampons

But decided against it.

All this talk about drippy noses

 reminds me of a time when I

was working in the nursery.

There I was helping this precious bundle of joy,

when my nose suddenly became a raging river.

My hands were full, the task needed to be completed,

and there I was reeeaaching for a sandbag, kleenex, anything to

stop. the. DRIP.

Try as I might to sniff it back, I could not.

And it was slowly getting to the point of no return.

Calling for help would've taken too long.

Wiping my nose across my shirt would've been. gross.

But it didn't really matter anyway.

I was too late.

The deed, or rather drip, was done.

And there the glossy little droplet sat on

that sweet, innocent, bald head

like dew on a flower.

MOR-TI-FIED

And then I died.

Not really.

But I wanted to.

Still makes me cringe.

How to take a compliment. By Missy Manners.

Everyone loves a compliment.

Even me. But we don’t

always know how to take it.

Why is that?

Is it because of embarrassment?

Humility?

Or do we believe the deliverer

to be insincere?

I say enough of that.

We need to embrace every

compliment.

A simple thank you will do.

Here are some real life examples

from Missy Manners.

1.

Giver: “You have pretty eyes.”

Missy: “Thank you.”

2.

Giver: “Your hair looks nice. Today.”

Missy: “Uh. Thank you.”

3.

Giver: “ Your kids usually are so well-behaved.”

Brief moment of silence

Missy: "Thank you."

Now these are true life examples of

compliments that I 

 have received at some point in my life,

but the next one I will

never, ever forget. Ever.

I was 16. My future mother-in-law

was the giver. I didn’t know

how to respond to it then.

Still don’t.

Future MIL: “You remind me of  Sissy Spacek.”

Sound of crickets.

Now, don’t get me wrong, but at 16 the only

thing I knew about Sissy Spacek

was “Coal Miner’s Daughter”.

And all I could think about was

her playing the guitar while barefoot

on the front porch

with kids running amuck around her.

This was most definitely NOT

a compliment to 16 year old me.





I remembered this not long ago, as I am

prone to do, and so I asked

my mother in law about it.

MIL: “I’ve always thought Sissy Spacek was cute.”

Missy: “Thank you.”