Artificial Christmas Trees

Artificial Christmas trees have been around since 1958 when the good people of Germany produced their own wooden trees.  Later came the arrival of the aluminum tree followed by the ever so popular PCV plastic trees. 

The makers of the aluminum and plastic trees fed us the popular line "save a tree" and we fell for it.  After all the artificial tree could be used year after year and it takes years to grow new trees.

Sounded really good at the time, didn't it? 

Now scientist have found the colorful (they come in a variety of colors from pastels to vibrant neon colors like my hot pink tree) plastic trees piled high on mountains of debris in dumps across the nation will still be there millions of years later.  Not the case with the old fashion Christmas trees of our great grand parents era.   And guess what, we can actually plant seedlings and have large sweet smelling trees in under 20 years. 

What a surprise! 

I really do love my hot pink tree but it is the last artificial tree I will buy.  I will not add more to the dumpster mountains.  To tell the truth, I miss the fragrance of pine filling my home each December so it is no sacrifice for me..

No Doom & Gloom for 2012

As I was driving home this afternoon from my store of choice, Barnes & Nobel, listening to the radio, the DJ said he felt very good about the new year 2012.  I had to laugh, not because I do not believe 2012 will be a good year but because of all the hype about the world as we know it ending in 2012.  There has even been a movie made about it starring John Cusack called We Were Warned.

What if we looked at this prediction not in terms of doom and gloom but as a glorious new beginning of the world in which we live?  Instead of plague and natural disasters what if there was a cure for cancer and AIDS found?  Instead of malice and hatred we learned to forgive and love all people.

I don't know about you, but I am looking forward to the year 2012.  As I have said in the past, I do not make new year resolutions.  I feel they set me up for failure.  Perhaps this is the year to embrace my fear of failure and risk all my friends knowing how very imperfect I am.

2012 will be a year of new beginnings.  For the first time in decades I will make a list of resolutions and just to make sure I stick to them, I will publish the list here on my blog.  You my dear friends will have the grave responsibility of holding me accountable to the list I produce.

I am counting on you to keep my nose to the grindstone.

Bahama Celebration

Darrell and I went on a short three day two night cruise to the Grand Bahama Island on an old beat up ship called The Bahama Celebration.  No, it wasn't one of the big fancy cruise ships with Las Vegas type shows, but I am not complaining.  It was clean, the meals were good, the stewards on the ship were friendly and helpful and the entertainment was fun.

While talking with one of the entertainers I learned the Bahama Celebration had been retired having seen better days and had been scheduled to join other old ships in a massive grave for old forgotten ships somewhere deep in the ocean.  The Bahama Celebration was still sea worthy, just in need of much loving care and attention.  A wise entrepreneur saw a flicker of life left in her and gave her a reprieve, washing, painting and oiling her until she shined once again.

I have a sentimental spot in my heart for that old ship, not just because we had a really good time on her but also because since my retirement I have noticed my once young vibrant firm body is now sagging and breaking down.  I can no longer dance and party all night .  Yes, I still try, but my knees scream in protest when I do.  I learned the hard way that my bones are no longer as strong as they once were after a fall while roller skating shattering my left wrist.  Yes, I can still run but much slower and not near as far.

So here's to the Bahama Celebration with warm memories.  May you continue to serve us old folks until you and I both are put out to pasture.

Looking to the future

When my twin and I were born we were the super stars of the family.

Why?

Because not only we were blond curly haired twins, but also we were first born grandchildren on both sides of the family.  Two years later the stork brought us a baby brother and suddenly we lost our celebrity status.  You see, he was the first born male, he would carry on the family name.  Our parents were old school.  There must be a son to inherit his birthright as head of the family.  Our little egos took quite a beating with his arrival.

That was just the beginning of our downfall.  We then started to school and met our peers.  Children can be very cruel to children who have learning disabilities.  But the cruelest of all can be the teachers, the one person whose job is to encourage and mentor the young minds left in their custody.  We had one teacher in particular who may have given Harry Potter's teacher Dolores Umbridge some ideas.  Okay, maybe she wasn't that bad but back then I would have meekly argued the point.

Silly, I know but we still wear the emotional scars from our early childhood.  Sue and I talked about that one teacher in particular while she was visiting me last week and the memories still make her cry.

So, what would we be like today if we had not been such introverted wusses in those early years?  I don't know. 

It is never too late to change and better ones self.  2011 is coming to a close.  I am giddy with excitement.  What will 2012 bring?

Free To Be Me

"While we have the gift of life, it seems to me the only tragedy is to allow part of us to die - whether it is our spirit, our creativity, or our glorious uniqueness."

That quote is credited to Gilda Radner who died of cancer while still in the prime of her life.  I've always thought her death was a tragedy but perhaps I am looking at this all wrong.

Yes, her life was cut short but no one or nothing was able to squelch her spirit, her comedy genius or her quirky uniqueness.

How many of us can say that? 

I can't!

For years I allowed my ex-husband to dictate how I dressed, acted and thought.

Shame on me.

After my divorce I had to rediscover who this middle aged woman was.  Unfortunately or fortunately (a little of both) I met and fell in love with another man with a strong dominating personality.  I never allowed him to control me as I did my ex however my passion for this man held me down.  Not as before but because I loved him I wanted to be the person I thought he wanted me to be.

Silly love sick woman!

I now understand he loved me exactly as I was and he would have continued to love me as I blossomed into the woman I was meant to be.

Now that he is gone what is in my future?  What is my destiny?  Who is this woman meant to be?

Once again I have a man by my side, a man who loves me.  I hope I have learned from my mistakes and am a wiser woman.  At least now I realize this man loves me as I am, not as the woman I imagine he wants me to be.

I am finally free.  Free to be me, a wild and crazy, scatterbrained, unorganized work in progress.

Be in Your Space of Wonder

During this and past Christmas seasons I have found much joy in observing the wonder on the faces of children as they anticipate the arrival of Santa Claus.  Their innocence and enthusiasm is delightful. 

When we are little we love that sense of wonder.  We excitedly anticipate the unknown.  As we grow up we lose that sense of wonder.  Our perspective becomes very small.  We no longer expect great and wonderful things to happen.  We have been knocked down so many times that we have forgotten the wondrous opportunities that are out there for us to discover if we will only keep the door open.

As a young teen I was slow maturing.  My father called me gullible.  I guess I still am.

Is that so bad?

This holiday season be in your space of wonder and blossom.

This Christmas season resolve to be in your space of wonder like you were when you were a child.

The Neem Tree

Off and on for years I have had bouts of insomnia.  During Les' illness my insomnia worsened.  No longer did I have an occasional night of restlessness, sleepless nights became the norm.  I wasn't terribly worried about my lack of sleep then because I did not want to sleep soundly in fear that I might not hear Les when he needed me.

I figured after his death I would go back to my routine of an occasional night of sleeplessness.  I was wrong.  It has been three years since I have slept all through the night.  That is until last night.

The last day of my trip to the Bahamas I toured the Wallace Groves Garden.  The tour guide told us of an amazing tree, the neem tree, a/k/a the village pharmacy.  The tree originated in India where it has been used for medicinal purposes for 4,000 years.  All parts of the tree roots, bark, gum, leaves, flowers, fruit, seed kernels and seed oil are used for a wide range of medicinal uses including insomnia.

I was skeptical but what did I have to lose?  I have tried many sleep aid products over the years with varying degrees of success, mostly complete failure.  All the over the counter P.M. products have a reverse effect on me.  Rather than make me drowsy I become hyper.  Those products that actually calmed me enough to sleep drugged me so badly I was unable to get much accomplished the next day.  What harm would it do to try another sleep aid?  I would be out a little money and I would have yet another bottle of pills sitting in my medicine cabinet until I tire of looking at it and throw it out.

Three nights ago I took my first capsule.  I didn't fall asleep right away and I woke once in the middle of the night but was able to fall back to sleep easily.  The next morning I rose feeling rested.  Night two I tried taking the full dose recommended of two capsules.  I slept better than the night before but still woke once to go potty.  Once again, night three I swallowed two green capsules.  Within a half hour I was in dream land sleeping like a baby and didn't stir until 7 the next morning.  I woke alert ready to conquer what ever obstacles came my way.  This was the first night in years that I actually slept eight straight hours without interruption.

Is it possible that the ancient people of India were better healers than modern man?  The makers of this product claim this miraculous herb can be used for fever, fugal infection, blood pressure, arthritis, diabetes, heart burn, heart disease, nausea, insect repellent, headache and of course insomnia just to name a few.

I am now excited about going to bed with the knowledge that I will sleep peacefully.  Sweet blissful sleep.

Man Eating Sharks

BEWARE! 

There are man eating sharks roaming the beaches of Ft. Lauderdale.  Darrell knows about them first hand.  He and I were walking along minding our own business when this big blue shark jumped out and gobbled Darrell up. 

It was crazy!  It was revolting!  It was disgusting! 

Good thing Darrell so old and tough.  The shark made a disgusting sound as he vomited and spit him out.

Being the sweet compassionate person that you all know I am, I stood by calmly photographing the historic moment.

Proof of my story below:

How Do You Spell PARADISE

Every one in the world is searching for something.  Some search for worldly pleasure while others crave professional growth.  Some look to improve their aptitude for learning and some focus on social service.

Me?  My search seems to be a vicious cycle searching for something new and interesting, something that thrills my senses.  Sometimes I search for my purpose in life and at times I am in search of true happiness.  In all my searches I have found the most satisfaction and bliss while in the company of friends.

Last week in search of whatever it is that I was searching for I found eternal bliss with my friend Darrell on Grand Bahama Island in the small town of Lucaya in a luxurious resort facing the Atlantic Ocean.  We did a little sight seeing but mostly we walked up and down the snowy white beaches inhaling the fresh ocean air, feeling the warm gentle breezes against our skin. The sand on the beach was incredibly soft and white and quite firm making it easy to walk upon.

So, how do I spell paradise?  L-U-C-A-Y-A

UN-Bubblely Lou

I don't know what is going on in my pea brain but I'm quite sure something is wrong - very wrong.  I am feeling very UN-Bubblely Lou. 

In just a very few short hours Darrell will pick me up so that we can finalize our packing, etc. for the trip to sunny Florida and then cruise to The Bahamas. 

I should be imitating Tigger - bouncing off the walls, giddy with excitement.

OK Girl!!! 

What is your mantra?

Life is an adventure!

A big, bold, epic and often time unpredictable adventure.  Kick yourself in the butt and turn up the radio, dance around the Christmas tree and live.  The future is not guaranteed.  Life may have other plans for you.  This moment, this priceless second in time - here and then gone forever.  Here and now.

"Today is life - the only life you are sure of.  Make the most of today."  Dale Carnegie

I know how short life can be.  I have seen it first hand.  I have seen people I love full of vim and vinegar, full of life and then gone forever. 

Turn off this computer, get up and shake your bootie, Bubbley Lou.  You've got yet another adventure to prepare for!

Why do we love?

Why do we love deeply?  I believe we love out of gratitude for what others have given to our lives. We are all selfish, we love for what we receive in return for our love. 

I'll never forget the swelling of my heart the first time I held my tiny infant son in my arms.  I had never felt love like that before and it was so over whelming I cried.  Love begets love.  My children grew and also loved.  With their love came my grandchildren.

But that is only the tip of the ice berg speaking of love.  We love our family, our friends, our pets, our neighbors, our hobbies, music, books, blah, blah, blah.  You get the picture. 

So why don't we love ourselves with the same deep love?  Why are we constantly belittleing ourselves for our imperfections, those imperfections that perhaps only we ourselves can see?  You know what I am talking about.  Someone tells you how good you are looking and you come back with, "nothing fits since I put on this additional weight".  We are down right mean to ourselves.  We wouldn't dream of treating others the way we treat ourselves.

The new year is right around the corner.  Have you started working on your annual New Year's Resolution list?  Remember that list, the list that gets put away and forgotten collecting dust with no productive changes once again.  I do not write new year resolutions but if I did, this year my list would begin with "Love thyself as you love others."

"Since you must spend so much time with yourself you might as well get some satisfaction out of the relationship."  Norman Vincent Peale

So You Think You Got It Bad?

The following is a little ditty my father (Roger W. Reese) wrote Christmas 1996.  I hope you enjoy his humor.

Listen closely to this little rhyme
because you will hear it just one time.
The other night I could not sleep
so I made up this little ditty
which I thought was quite witty.

Then I told it to my wife
another mistake in my life.
She said, "Oh, what a pity
some of those words sound mmmmmmwell
Those words you will have to delete.
But I said, "It will not be complete."
That's when she hit me on the head
and I went right back to bed.

Ho! Ho! Ho! So you think you got it bad?
Let me tell you about this little lad.
This is a conversation I over heard
as he was talking to his reindeer herd.

Come on now quit your bitching
we have to finish this hitching.
Donner, I don't need to hear you complain.
You think yours is the only pain?
What is the matter with you Blitzin?
You know the elf has your shoe a fixin'
Come over here Cupid.
Don't act so stupid.
come let see that sty
I've got medicine for your eye.

Oh my head is so stuffy
and my eyes are all puffy
my nose is about to drip
and I got a sore on my lip
There's this pain in my hip
that makes me an old crip.

The missus gave me double ex-lax
I'm afraid to bend over for my packs.
I never got to sleep on the cot
for sittin' all night on the pot.

It's really not too bad.
When you think about the lad,
I mean the one who is boss.
They hung him on the cross.
So up! Up! and away
for this is His day!

Powerful Words to Live By But are They Right for Me?

I follow Rich Proctor's blog The Lionheart closely.  My ADHD does not allow me to stick to anything for long.  I jump around reading other bloggers but only The Lionheart has the power to keep me coming back.  He describes himself as a recovering underachiever and writes with complete honesty his struggle to be an extra-ordinary person.  I can't say I'm obsessed with his blog but I do confess I look forward to his daily dissertation concerning his attempts to improve himself.

Today he discussed his reaction to a quote by Nikki Sixx.  "If you are drawn to it ... attack it ... get obsessed with it and conquer it ...it doesn't matter if you think you can do it or not .... its all in your head .... write it down, splash paint on it, snap a picture of it or write a song about it ... practice what you preach and get on a soap box ... don't be afraid .... the only thing to be afraid of is fear itself." 

He called this quote "powerful words to live by" and I am in complete agreement.  If a person could live by this creed there is absolutely nothing they could not do.  The world would be at their feet.  Why?  Because most people are like me, easily conquered by their own thoughts of inadequacy, their own secret monsters of insecurities, that monster called Not Good Enough.

I am what Barbara Sher author of I Could Do Anything If I Only Knew What It Was a "scanner", a jack of all trades but a master of none.  Back to my ADHD once again.  I have tried more things than most people have tried in a life time and perfected none.  (Perhaps that is because I am OLD)

Here are a few of the things I have dabbled in:

Cake decorating
Seamstress
Sold craft items at craft stores
Art Journaling
Paint murals
Banker
Trust Officer
Stain glass designs
Writing a book
Home maker
Blogger
Sky diving
Mud Run
Weight Lifter
Politics
Church Leader
Artist
Youth Camp Counsellor
Rock Climber
Sunday School Teacher
Actor
Song writer

I am sure I am leaving things off my list.  This is just what has come to my head while composing this piece.

A year ago my cousin broke down and got medical help for her ADHD and swears she has never been happier.  She is now able to patiently complete one project at a time. 

I am torn.  One part of me likes this eccentric side of me, the dabbler who enjoys trying different things but the other side wishes I could calmly sit and learn something without having to jump up several times and do something else. 

For now I will continue doing things as I always have.

Louise Scrooge

I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately.  Reflecting on Christmas pasts.  No, I have never actually been as stingy as Ebenezer Scrooge, but I haven't fully partaken in the pleasures of Christmas giving either.

Why?

Back to my childhood.  My father and that big unrelenting word RESPONSIBILITY!

I have never spent more money on Christmas presents than what I have in my meager checking account just as I learned at my father's knee.  Even though this practice has given me some grief in the past from some in-laws who had always received lavish gifts on their birthdays and Christmas and thought my penny pinching gifts were some how a message to them that I did not care for them, I persisted to follow my father's directives on gift giving.

Now I ask myself, who is/was right?  My frugal father, who only once bought a brand spankin' new car because he refused to go into debt or the millions of American who run out on Black Friday with their credit cards clinched firmly in their sweaty little hands yelling "CHARGE IT!"

Once again I have to bow to the wisdom of my father.  My gifts may not be anxiously opened but my gifts are bought and sometimes made with my little hands with love and care.  And when Christmas is over I am not afraid to go to the mail box to receive my credit card bills.

So if you are one of the lucky few who receive gifts from me, know that it will not be lavish or expensive but it is given because I love you.

In Loving Memory of Charlie

I was both saddened and happy to hear of the death of Charlie Christakos at the very young age of 93.  It is always difficult to watch someone you love in pain.  As Socrates put it "Death may be the greatest of all human blessings."

I had known Charlie for such a short time but for me it was love at first sight.  I first met him at a rock concert in St. Louis where his grandson was playing the base guitar nearly a year ago.  He was wearing a well worn suit and a beat up fedora covered his balding head.  His smile was sunshine itself even though he had lost most of his teeth years ago.  For a man of 92 years he was exceptionally spire and he waltzed me around the room while his grandson beat out the rhythm of some loud hard rock music on his guitar.

When Charlie was given the diagnosis of liver cancer he was determined to live his final days as he had the rest of his life.  He immediately started planning his Big Greek Going Away Party.  The party was not to be at a big fancy hall but at his home on the lake.  Charlie basked in the warmth of love on the bright sunny July day with 150 friends and family who had come from all over the country to celebrate a life well lived.

Albert Einstein said "Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation.  For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life."  Here's to a life well lived!

Where did 2011 Go?

The end of 2011 is drawing to a close and what do I have to show for a year of my life?

A new love in my life.
Mud Run to raise money for MS
Reconnected with a long lost cousin
Started a blog and consistently wrote in it.
Did a little traveling
Organized the First Bank Ladies Reunion
Took my father to Texas
Lost a lot of money in the stock market
Spent lots of time lovin' on the grandkids

The year hasn't been lost but it just doesn't seem like it is enough. 

I don't believe in New Year Resolutions.  I think lists like that simply set a person up for failure yet I do believe a person needs to spend some time annually contemplating what they want out of their lives.

So what do I want out of my life?

I wish I knew. 

I truly do not. 

I have habitually jumped from one thing to another living life by the seat of my pants, landing where ever my arse is kicked.  I don't do anything well, but I keep trying.  I blame that on my ADHD but I really don't know why.

"Most of our life we're following the carrot to find out who we are or who we are not.  I've made a lot of mistakes, picked myself up and started again.  If I had quit every time I was bad at something I probably wouldn't have made it through high school."   Kelly Cutrone

Honor those who have passed

My post the other day about "Before I die I want to" has gotten me thinking about those who have passed before me, those I have loved.

How does one thank the dead for all they have done for us?  How do we honor those who have given so much to us?

Tears?  Yes, we cry but that is not enough.  They loved us and would not want us to squander our lives in useless grief and mourning.

Sweat?  Yes, we work to finish what they started. 

My mother was working on a book of short stories about her family.  I have continued with family stories in this blog. 

Honor those who have passed before you by finishing what they started.  Don't squander your inheritance.  Leave your own legacy.  It begins today.

Theodore - Just another Sappy Saturday Story

I inherited a shabby old teddy bear.

Not just any teddy bear, Theodore.

My mother was the oldest of three daughters born to James Oscar a/k/a  J.O. and Nina Dennis.  The three little girls' favorite activity was playing house as is many children.  The three children imitated the happy home life in which they lived with a Mother, Father and three daughters.  There was only one minor problem, all they owned were girl dolls.  For three imagined children that was easily remedied, Theodore, my mother's teddy bear became Father.  Theodore was perfect, not only was he big and strong but he also had hair like their father. 

Okay, you may think that a bit far fetched but wait and I'll explain. 

My mother was fascinated with her father's daily process of shaving so it was only natural that Theodore must also shave.  Over the years Theodore was shaved many many times and he looks it.  Below is a picture of Theodore.  There is nothing like a ragged toy that reflects the love a child has bestowed upon it.

There is a rip and a tear
In my teddy bear
Love pours out of him everywhere.

37 Days Until the End of 2011

I love Patti Digh, the author of 37 Days.  The book was written in response to Patti's sudden shock and awareness to how short and sweet life can be when her step father was diagnosed with cancer and died a short 37 days later.

Her Message: Live life to its fullest.  Don's wait for the perfect moment.  It may never come.

One of Patti's dedicated followers wrote a blog in an effort to make each of the last 37 days of this year special. 

Great Idea!

So how am I going to make the 37 days of 2011 memorable?

Today was day one of the 37.  I have spent much of the day calling old friends I rarely see anymore but who hold a special place in my heart.  Tonight I am going to a house party and will endeavor to make more memories there.

For the next 37 days I plan to take time to reflect on my wonderful life story, on the many friends and family I have been blessed with and make plans for my future.  I will look back at photos and mementos I have tucked safely in an old chest in my bedroom and write the stories that go with each memento so that when I am gone, my children will understand why I saved that little doll, beat up teddy bear, or old badly stained blanket.

There will be 37 days of music, friends, reflections, gratitude, intentions, reading, travel, eating, drinking and lots of wild uproarious laughter.

So, how will you spend the last 37 days of 2011?

Before I Die I Want to .......

Yesterday on Facebook I saw an interesting link http://www.candychang.com/ an artist who made art for the community on the side of an old derelict building.  Her artwork was very simple and yet very powerful.  All she had done was painted one side of the building with black paint as the base coat and then in big bold letters she printed "Before I die".  She then covered the rest of the building with line after line the words "I want to ______".  The community did the rest.  With chalk they filled in the blanks with their hopes and dreams for the future.

Steve Jobs, the late great Apple entrepreneur once said "Death is life's greatest invention."  Why?  Because it forces us to make a difference now.  Each day is a gift, treasure every moment.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow.

Personally my list is quite long, how about you?  What would you like to do before you die? 

Live before you die.

When do we take responsibity for our actions???

I just got off the phone with a sweet child I have known and loved since she was ten years old.   She is now nineteen.  I had been a volunteer for Big Brothers Big Sisters and she was my "Little" as they call the children who need mentoring.  Once the child becomes eighteen they are no longer mentored and sent out into the world to make it on their own. 

My Little is the reason I am not a volunteer for that agency any longer.  I loved her but also feared her.  I didn't fear her for my safety, as I said she was a sweet child.  I feared her because I was unable to reach her, to make her see that she is responsible for her actions as a child and even more so as an adult.

I had lost contact with her for over a year and actually wished I would not hear from her again. 

No, I take that back.  I think of her often and have wanted to see her again, it is just that I fear she will want to move in with me and I am not in a situation where I can financially take care of her. 

Since the last time I heard from her she has moved at least a half dozen times, living in Arkansas, Indiana, Illinois and now Wisconsin always with a different person until they kick her out.  Now here she is at the ripe young age of nineteen living with a friend and pregnant with a man's baby who never wants to set eyes on her or the unborn child. 

When I asked her what happened, why has she gone from place to place her answer is always the same;  they are mean to her.  The first time I heard this was while she was living with her sister and her husband a couple of years ago.  Since then I have heard it many times and I don't know about you but when I hear the same excuse repeatedly I start getting suspicious.

So now the big question, how does she think she is going to raise this child without a job or permanent housing.  Oh, that one was easy for her, her girlfriend is going to take care of the baby and she'll join the army.  Personally I think that is just another lie.  I believe she dropped out of high school two years ago when she started her traveling from state to state, boyfriend to boyfriend and the army is only taking high school graduates.  Of course she vehemently denies that.

Now for the truth as I see it.  The U.S. taxpayers will take care of her and the unborn child's medical expenses, food and housing for the next eighteen or more years.  She will see no problem with this situation.  It is her right as an American citizen.

I don't know what is right and wrong in this scenario.  Some children will never be able to make it on their own.  They become permanent wards of the government.  They may not know how to get and keep a job but they do know all the government agencies that will give them better medical care than the average tax payer can afford.  They actually know their rights better than the average American who diligently goes to work each day so that they may concientiously pay their bills and care for their families.

Who is responsible?  I don't know but I do know this cannot continue.

It's not about Perfection

I haven't been creating lately.  My art journal has simply been laying around collecting dust.  For nearly two years art journaling was my major outlet for both creating and as an emotional outlet but when I decided to write a book about art journaling my creativity was put on hold while I worked on my writing ability. 

Lately I have come to realize I am bored with my life.  Perhaps my art journal will bring back some of my old spontaneity that I always loved about myself?!? 

Out came my dusty old art journal and paints.  However creativity did not jump out on the pages as I expected.  I worked for several hours and nothing spoke to me.  Belong is the results.

I was attempting to use the ideas from Julie Nutting's book, Collage Couture.  I enjoy her art work but not mine.  I've been trying to figure out why mine looks so dull and uninteresting and then I hit upon an idea.  Creativity is not about perfection, it is about being wild and silly and downright outrageous.  I worked for a long time on this project constantly changing it because it wasn't just like Julie's art.  Silly me, that is because I am not Julie. 

Stop trying to be someone else.  One Julie is plenty and one Louise is all I need.

Hiking at Bennett Springs State Park

I left early yesterday morning for an adventurous day in the great outdoors with my twin sister who lives in the heart of Missouri's Ozarks right on the edge of Bennett Springs State Park.   Sue and I were raised in the city but for the last ten years Sue has lived and worked at the park and developed a close relationship with the park conservationist.  Due to this relationship she has become a conservationist of sorts herself.  I find listening to her chatter about the resident animals and plant life fascinating and looked forward to a day tromping around in the woods with her.

Even though I am not a morning person I was so excited about my upcoming adventure I left early for the three hour drive to Lebanon MO and arrived a good hour before our cousin Lynette, who was also joining us.  So what are we to do with an hour to waste?   Why explore the different hiking options the park has to offer, of course.  The park has several hiking trails with varying degrees of length and difficulty to traverse.  Not knowing how fit our cousin was we decided on the 4 1/2 mile trail rather than the 7 miles.  Just a good stretch of the legs!

The fall day was perfect for the excursion into the woods, gentle cool breezes and just enough sunshine to make the outing enjoyable.  All three ladies had dressed in layers so that we would be warm when we began our outing and we could slowing strip as our bodies warmed up from the exercise warranting less clothing. It wasn't long before the stripping began.  Out in the open the cool breeze was actually rather cold but not in the woods where the trees shielded us.  The trail we had chosen was not terribly difficult making it easy to hop over logs and climb the gentle rise of the hills while talking, laughing and enjoying our company.  We followed the winding path along the Niangua River until the trail abruptly ended.  We then had to climb a section of the bluffs where the trail started up once again. 

Suddenly we had come to the end of our hiking trail.  Two and a half hours had passed in a blink of the eye.  Amazing how quickly time flies when you are with good company. 

We returned to the park's country store to have a nourishing bowl of homemade vegetable soup and talk about our little adventure.  We were slightly disappointed that the only wildlife we had seen was a sleepy little black snake looking for a little sun to warm himself.  Much of the plant life was now dormant preparing for the cold winter but still there was some soft velvety moss that had bloomed just to make us happy and even some blue/green lichen scattered around on the rocks.

The day had come to an end much too soon and all three ladies had to head for home, each with our own responsibilities that needed our attention.  For a short time all our concerns and problems were swept under the rug as we played just as we had fifty years ago as little girls on our grandfather's farm.  Who says you have to grow up?  OK, we grew up but we still can retreat to our childhood occasionally.

The Fly

When I was a very little girl my maternal grandmother would rock and sing to me a lovely lullaby.  I never knew the song and had never heard anyone else sing the little ditty except for Grandma.  I loved that song and sang it to my children over and over again hoping they would love the song as much as I.

So often I have wondered why I had never heard the lullaby anywhere else.  Was it a family song?  For the last few years I have searched through old song books trying to locate the music, but had never been successful.  I guess I am a little dim witted because it wasn't until today that I thought of doing a search on the Internet.  Well, duh, there it was and here it is.

The song was originally a poem by Theodore Tilton called The Fly and later put to words by Lowell Mason.  I don't believe the music above is the same my grandmother sang to me but I can't be sure because I do not read music.

                            The Fly
                     by: Theodore Tilton

                         Baby Bye,
                         Here's a fly,
                         Let us watch him, you and I
                         How he crawls
                         Up the walls --
                         Yet he never ever falls!
                         I believe with those six legs
                         You and I could walk on eggs!
                         There he goes,
                         On his toes,
                         Tickling Baby's nose!

Grandma has been gone for over 40 years now.  Ahh, blessed memories!

I'm in a Rut

Once again I seem to be in a rut.

Same old routines
.
Same old patterns.

Same old habits.

It's like I'm stuck in a tunnel.  On both sides I see the same people, same environment, nothing has changed.

I am hanging on to the thread of the old certainties that I think are so dear to me, still suffering through the pain of emotions thrust upon me when I thought I had found real happiness.

Can we base our happiness on material relationships?  As I have sadly discovered, we cannot.  Happiness is found in our hearts, our lives alone.  I am a mortal who realizes that being mortal means that eventually I will lose all that I love by their death or my own.

Am I happy?  Define happiness.

Am I sad?  No.

Am I bored?  Ah ha!  Yes, I am bored.  I have not been pushing myself.  I have gotten into my comfort zone and curled up with a cup of hot tea and a nice warm down comforter reading yet another thrilling book.  As much as I enjoy this scenario, it does not stimulate me and being a typical ADHD person, I need stimulation.  I cannot live my life through the adventures of others on the written page.  I must create my own adventures which may seem dull to some but still they are my own.

So what am I going to do about this?  You guessed it.  I am getting off this 'puter, getting dressed, put on a fresh new face, jump in my little truck and head out to the highways and by ways to find some new adventure where ever it may be. 

More about this later.

My Daddy, an American Hero

This weekend Darrell and I surprised my father by showing up at his doorstep unannounced.  It's not that we didn't try to contact him, it's just that he didn't answer his phone whenever we tried calling.  I hated to drive 100 miles and find him not home but Dad is 85 years old extremely hard of hearing and seldom strays far from home.so I felt quite sure we would find him sitting in the shed cracking pecans unable to hear the telephone.  When we arrived I found that I was wrong, he was not in the shed cracking pecans, he was at the kitchen table shelling pecans.

He hadn't heard the phone ring when I called because at that time he was in the small village where he was born and raised, Perry Illinois, being honored as an American hero.  He didn't seem to be near as excited as I was about the news.  He quietly told us he was asked to celebrate Veterans Day at Perry Methodist Church for a turkey dinner with all the fixings and as a veteran he would get his meal free.  My father is not one to turn down a free meal. 

He got there just in time to see a large yellow school bus arrive packed full of children.  The children were there to thank him for giving a portion of his life to the country they lived in with all its benefits.  The children had written post cards, letters and signed a poster for him showing their gratitude for him and all American veterans who had bravely served this country to keep it free.

Dad modestly said he didn't know he was an American hero, he thought he was just drafted and did what he had to do.  He didn't tell the children what he did in Korea.  To Dad it seemed small and unimportant in the scheme of it all.  He wasn't in the trenches with a rifle praying that he wouldn't be killed or that he would be forced to kill.  My father was a medic in the Korean War much like what we have all seen on  the television series MASH.  He was not a surgeon just a lowly medic, but as a lowly medic he vaccinated thousands of Korean men, women and children against the deadly epidemic of cholera.  His heroism was to save thousands rather than to kill them.  In my minds eye, that is so much more courageous.

America people are led to believe that the American soldier is feared and hated all over the world.  That is not all of the story.  The American soldier is also a hero all over the world for the good that he has done.  God bless the American soldier, veterans and my father.

It's Okay

It's okay if .... you're drowning in self-doubt
                        you started but stalled - again
                        you got bucked off the mechanical bull
                        you finished last in the race
                        you haven't reached your potential
                        you just couldn't find the time
                        you spent the weekend in bed reading
                        you showed up late
                        you don't know where to start
                        you've got your priorities mixed up
                        you get down on yourself
                        you're overwhelmed
                        you get a little jealous of successful people
                        you back slide occasionally

None of it matters

Because.....

You tried!

Don't take yourself too seriously.

What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about?

Daylight Savings

Food for Thought: 

Daylight Savings is man's attempt to play God by delaying the sun's setting by one hour.

Change of Attitude

Question:  Do you think this world was only an entertainment for you?

Since my forced retirement I have begun to live as if this was my philosophy.  My father forced fed the word "responsibility" down my throat for all my life - yes, I mean all my life, not just my formative years.  My father has always been a strong influence in my life even now in my sixties.  I don't always believe his answers are the right ones but I listen intently, respect his advice and then juggle his ideas around in my pea brain until I come up with my own opinion, right or wrong.

As of late I have come to realize I have taken the word retirement to mean 24/7 lay around and chillax.  I have always loved to read and hated housework.  Not a good combination when retired and taken on this kind of attitude.  I am getting fat and lazy.

When my grandfather retired he sat down in his recliner in front of the boob tube and vegetated.  He sat there for over 20 years until he died in a nursing home a broken man.  What broke him?  I believe he had nothing to live for.  He felt worthless.  He had always been productive.  He no longer had a reason to get up out of bed.

We must have productive lives to be happy and fulfilled.  I believe that is why so many rich and famous people turn to drugs. Perhaps that is why there is such a lot of drug abuse today, people are out of work and feel completely worthless.

So what do I plan to do about this incredibly stupid new personal attitude?  Well, change it, of course.

My first step today will be to get off my fat arse and clean house.  Got to get off this computer and get to work. 

As Arnold said in The Terminator "I'll be back!" with updates on this new attitude.

Vitamin F

Sometimes, e-mails drive me crazy.  I get so many, mostly spam (so why doesn't the spam eater find all those and eat them up?) but not all.  Thank the good Lord I also get the special ones my friends send me that light up my day, I then delete the spam and bask in the love from my friends.

Today I received an e-mail from a cousin who I consider a dear friend about friends.  I have read this e-mail before but since I consider my girlfriends my most dearly held treasures I read it again.  This message quoted Dr. Oz as saying he calls our friends Vitamin F (F for friends) and counts the benefits of friends as essential to our well-being.  According to Dr. Oz if you enjoy Vitamins F constantly you can be up to 30 years younger than your real age.

Wow, what a concept.  I'm 61 so is it possible that I could be 31 just by doing what I enjoy, spending time with people I love?

Life Treasures

My house is in dire need of cleaning, truth be told it is in need of organizing all the piles of work I need to attend to but when I start cleaning I quickly get lost - lost in my own life.

I have life treasures all over the place.  Instead of cleaning I find myself touching to remember all that life has given me.  Lying neatly on the bed is the blanket my mother crocheted for Scotty, my first born, her first grandson.  I touch the tightly knit stitches and my mind's eye can see her fingers pulling the yarn wrapping around the hook time and time again creating the warm blanket for the tiny baby who is now a 40 year old man with two children of his own.  Treasures of pictures in every nook and cranny of friends, family and those precious grandchildren, each picture with its own story, an old wooden file box my mother had bought at an auction that my father decoupaged with pictures from their days in grass roots politics, my grandmother's canister set, books old and new, tea cups and hats all with their own individual story.

Wandering around my small two bedroom home is as if I am time traveling through portions of my life.  These little pieces of my life help me to remember where I was, who I was with and who I have become because of all of them.  The rock painted bright orange with splashes of red and blue means nothing to anyone else but to me it is the creation of a beautiful little two year old boy who calls me Meemaw.  All these odds and ends would not net two hundred dollars at an auction yet they are worth a fortune to me.  So I dust them and put them back on the shelf because they tell my life story.

It's the bits and pieces that create a life.  What a life I have had!  What a life I am having!

Cuivre River State Park

Several years back sister Mary and I met Sunday mornings at Cuivre River State Park just outside of Troy Missouri to hike.  Those mornings walking in the woods were just what the doctor ordered for whatever ailed us, whether it was too many hours with a know-it-all boss who had been in management so long he forgot what goes on in the pits, not enough hours in the day to get everything on that never ending to-do-list completed, or dealing with teenagers with bad attitudes. 

We walked, talked and laughed our troubles away until one Sunday our meetings abruptly stopped.  We let what ailed us take over and used the same old worn out excuse "I just don't have the time."  How sad!?!

I had not thought about Cuivre River State Park for quite some time until last Sunday morning while eating a light breakfast with Darrell.  Suddenly memories came flooding over me like sunlight on a cold dreary winter day warming me.  After telling Darrell of Mary and my adventures tromping through the woods he suggested we check out the park.  The morning appeared to be perfect for a fall trek through the great outdoors so we lazily prepared for the one hour drive all the while talking about the eight different hiking trails the park provided.

An hour and a half later the weather had changed and had turned a little windy and spitting rain.  I guess I had talked this event up too much because Darrell was not daunted by a few rain drops and opted to venture out on the four mile trip around the small lake, umbrella in hand. 

The fall foliage was not as lovely as it must have been a short two weeks earlier yet their was a haunting beauty about the whole area.  I made Darrell stop here and there to view the different plant life and examine the trees felled by the beaver.  By evidence of all the downed trees, I'd guess there is a large family of beavers living there.  I renamed the lake, Lake Beaver in honor of all the trees around the lake bearing their familiar mark. 

Two and half hours later we were still dry and had ventured all around the lake.  Our guardian angel must have been looking out for us because we did not have to use the umbrella. We plan to revisit the park often but probably not until next spring.  I am so glad Darrell enjoys doing this type of thing.  I have never had a gentleman friend before who was willing to go for hikes with me.  Thank you, Darrell.  You're the greatest!

Blogging: A gift to give yourself

When I started writing my blog it was with the intentions of working on my writing skills so I wouldn't look like a blithering idiot as I expressed myself in my book.  My book has stalled and the blog has turned into a personal gift to myself, a place to share my observations and thoughts on the world around me.  I am able to be free and creative here and something more.  It is a refuge of sorts, a place to be authentic.  There are days when I sit down at my computer and pound out my feelings on the keyboard that I feel as if I have had an hour long session with a grief counsellor.  A counsellor who is never opinionated, who never questions my decisions.  Only quietly listens and lets me pour my heart out until I can intelligently reflect on my past and present life and voice my fears for my future.

I have expressed my feelings towards my friends and family in blogs written here in the past as dearly beloved treasures.  That still holds true but there is another side of me besides the social butterfly who flits from friend to friend soaking up the sweet joy they bestow upon me.  I also enjoy being a loner.  I truly enjoy my time being alone.  Quietness is an integral part of my happiness and my inner peace.  Some people find being alone uncomfortable.  They feel loneliness.  I am not one of those, I feel I am not alone, I am with me, with my thoughts and dreams.  It is my opportunity to become the creative person I thrive to be.  Having time to truly be alone and work through my creative process brings such joy into my life.

Yet another gift from blogging is my new found blogging friends.  My blogging friends have made my story richer by them sharing their stories with me, free of charge.  What a gift, and they have never met me and quite possible never will.  I am relatively new at blogging and have a feeling more gifts will be revealed to me as time passes and I delve deeper into the blogospere.  I just love surprise gifts, don't you.  I can hardly wait to see what gift I will open next.

Rock Climbing

My sisters and I have a Bucket List that whenever possible we have tried to fill together.  Yesterday we completed our forth accomplishment together, we went rock climbing.  We have already gone skydiving, rode a mule down the Grand Canyon and completed the Hannibal Cannibal.

For years we have heard of the tenacity needed to be a rock climber from one of my brothers who has been an avid rock climber for years, traveling around the U.S. with his boy scout troop sampling the many different surfaces of rock terrain.  He explained to us that not only was the sport challenging but also costly.  Due to the dangerous situations one can get into while scaling a wall of rock it is essential to purchase good gear.  The shoes alone start at $75, his were much higher.  None of us have the money to purchase such expensive gear.

Still this was something Sue had been talking about for at least ten years so Mary and I were determined to make her dream come true.  I began my research on the Internet and found there are hundreds of rock climbing gyms located around the states.  Even better, I found one located in Springfield, Missouri, just a short hour drive from Sue's home.  I called the gym and talked to a very nice young man who was friendly, knowledgeable and anxious to help.  Just what three middle aged novices needed.

We have a cousin, Lynette that lives in Springfield who expressed a desire to come observe our first attempts.  By the time we all met she had worked up the courage to climb with us.  Perfect!  It takes a team of two to rock climb, one person climbs while the other (the belayer) holds the rope taunt.  We now had two teams.

A young man perhaps 20 years young took our money, gave us our gear and told us he would spend the next 45 minutes or more teaching us how to use the climbing gear, safety techniques and get us climbing the easiest wall.  The wall was 15 to 20 foot tall with hard plastic objects scattered along the flat surface for hand and foot holds.  This was only one of the half dozen or so climbing walls in the large building but we were beginners and did not tackle any of the other walls.

We listened intently to our young friend's instructions and then excitedly geared up for our own challenge, the wall.  Sue and Lynette were the first team to climb.  Sue was the belayer and Lynette the climber.  They were both awesome.  Lynn was about half way up and with a shaky voice yelled down, "Did I forget to tell you I am afraid of heights?"  I knew she was but she overcame her fear with real bravado.  Coming down was the fun part.  She leaned way back and simply walked down the wall.  When she reached the floor the room erupted in a cheer and we quickly prepared Sue for her climb.  Sue was a natural.  She looked like a monkey climbing that wall.  She didn't seem to have any fear at all and she even jumped around on the wall while descending.  I was very proud of her.  Next came Mary who also did very well.

Sadly I did not fair as well.  I started off great until I let the Whattheheckamithinking monster take over  reasoning power.  Three years ago I broke my left wrist roller skating.  Not just broke, shattered.  I struggle with fears of injuring that wrist further.  While hanging on to the wall the monster told me my wrist was not strong enough to hold me if I were to slip and fall.  Once again I listened to Monster Fear who told me not to bother, just give up.  Realistically that should not have been a concern.  The rope would have caught me, not my wrist.  I did not go up near as far as the other three and when they went up again, I did not follow suit.  While I was changing clothes I thought about this and started thinking of different routes I could have used and my confidence started returning again.  I felt like Sidi in the book the Ya Ya Sisterhood when she did not go flying with her brother, sister and friends and later cried because she hadn't gone.

This was such an awe inspiring adventure. When we first discussed learning to rock climb we said we may never do it again but at least we tried.  Now we know we will do it again and next time I will have my head on straight and not worry about what could happen.  Just enjoy the thrill of the whole experience.

Happy Halloween

Witches, ghosts and goblins, going two by two,

I'm not the least bit frightened; unless they holler "BOO!"

Stop Saying You're Fine

One of my new blog friends introduced me to Mel Robbins' book Stop Saying You're Fine which is just another sappy self-help book. She made thisinteresting point "We deny how we feel because in our society, you're not supposed to be unhappy."  I've come to notice I am not happy and as confusing as this may sound, I am not unhappy.  I am somewhere in between.

I have been trying to use her book as a guide to determine what is going on in my little pea brain.  It is pretty scary.  It is beginning to look like I have been reading too many books to the grandchildren.  My grey stuff looks an awful lot like Pooh's grey fluff.

Mel Robbins says we normally pick easy, surface level problems to work on so we don't have to tackle the tough stuff, things like I need to lose weight, go back to work, my fiances are a mess.  You get the picture.  Sure enough, when I first started listing problems I realized these items were simply annoyances.  So what is really bothering me? 

Shame!  Regret!  I have just realized I have squandered too many years without ever chasing my dreams causing me to feel life is empty, without purpose.  It is difficult admitting this to myself and even worse admitting to others.  It is as if I am a bad girl and I am disappointed and frustrated on a daily basis with myself.

So what's a girl to do?  The dreams I had for success as a young woman no longer have value to me.  Back then I wanted to have a good paying job and respect from management. 

What do I want to do with this life of mine?  Looks like I am going to have to stir the grey fluff around in my head a little more.  What will I find?

Somethings Gotta Give

I am quite literally living on a prayer.  The price of gasoline keeps going up and with it the price of everything else.  It takes gasoline to get products to market and we can't expect the truckers to take a hit.  They have families to take care of too. 

I don't mean to whine and I know that is what this sounds like.  I'm just expressing what I see around me.

Today I went to Meideke to have new brakes put on my truck.  The mechanics were polite and pleasant but I noticed something else.  There seemed to be a sense of hopelessness about the two men I spoke with. 

Jobs are difficult to come by.  Thousands upon thousands of people are unemployed.  Managers know they have their employees in a tough place.  My son was actually told by his immediate manager to keep his mouth shut and do what he is told right or wrong.  As employees come he is a dime a dozen and easily replaced.

I came across this old poem the other day and it made me wonder, is this the way the average American worker is feeling?  He/she is certain there has got to be something better out there but have been trod upon for so long they just don't know where to begin their climb out of the deep hole they have dug themselves into.  The average American has sky high mortgage payments and credit cards that have been maxed out. 

Something's Gotta Give by Christine Kane

One of these days I'm gonna jump off that shelf
Hit that ground runnin'
At least that's what I keep telling myself
I've been sitting on the fence for way too long
Warmin' that bench as chance moves on
And believe me that isn't the way to live
And this barely getting by is really getting old
And it's hard to turn the wrench on a rusty bolt
But someday, something's gotta give.

Is the American worker literally living paycheck to paycheck?

Are they as poor as Job but not as patient?

What next?

Winnie The Pooh

My granddaughter has requested I don my Winnie the Pooh costume again this year to escort her around the neighborhood trick or treating.  Since I am a loving grandmother and would never dream of disappointing her, I have once again dug out the costume.

Recently I came across Pooh's Little Instruction Book.  Since I am going to portray Pooh, I thought it might be beneficial to read the small book.  This is what I learned:

"If possible, try to find a way to come downstairs that doesn't involve going bump, bump, bump, on the back of your head."  Very good advice indeed!

"Try not to sit down on thistles; it takes all of the life out of them.  Besides, someone might have planned on eating them for lunch."  I find thistles to be a bit too stickery for eating but perhaps Eeoyre does not.

"If you secretly get into a kangaroo's pocket and she begins to jump away, be prepared for a bumpy ride."  Now that sounds like fun!

"When having a smackerel of something with a friend, don't eat so much that you get stuck in the doorway trying to get out."  But isn't it impolite to turn down a perfectly good smackerel?

"When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it."  So perhaps it is best not to waste so much gray fluff thinking of all those things.

"When going round a spinney of larch trees tracking something, be sure it isn't your own footprints you are following."  Yes, sadly I have been known to get lost going to visit my father. 
"Before floating up into the sky with a  balloon in search of honey, make sure the bees you are looking for are the right sort of bees."  And all this time I thought everyone was good, kind and loving and of course wanted to share their honey with me.

"People who don't think probably don't have brains; rather, they have grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake."  And grey fluff is hard to come by so must not be wasted on trivial thinking.

"If you think you see a Heffalump in a trap make sure it isn't really a Bear with an empty jar of honey stuck on his head."  Oooops, do I need my eyes checked?

"If you are looking for Home and find instead a sand-pit, try looking for a sand-pit.  Then you'd be sure not to find it, which would be a Good Thing, because you might find something that you weren't looking for which might be just what you were looking for."  It is also a very good way to begin a new adventure.

"Tiggers can climb trees. Of course, there's the coming down too, which is difficult, unless one falls, in which case it is .....easy."  Been there, done that.  Now it is my honor and pleasure to teach my grandson how to climb trees.

For a Bear with Very Little Brain, Pooh seems to be a smart little guy;  but then I may think that because I can relate to the predicaments Pooh gets himself into.   I wonder what would happen if I had a CAT scan?  Would a brain be found or just gray fluff?  My family would probably tell you fluff.

Oh, What a Day!

This morning I woke up with energy to spare.

This was a day to accomplish great things.  A day to check off the many items on my to-do list that keep reappearing day after day because I just don't get around to them.  This was the day to make all those phone calls, to mop the kitchen floor, to take down curtains and wash them, to wash the windows, to organize the closets, to mow the grass, to strip the bed and wash the sheets.  This was the day to write that pesky book, to finish painting those baseball caps, to walk to the park and breath in the fresh autumn air and dream the wildest most daring dreams.

So why is it that such a perfect day can be ruined in one simple act?  An act that is so common, so ordinary.  I simply opened my mail.  No it wasn't an unexpected bill.  It was my monthly investment statement.  Oh Hell's Belles!  My portfolio took another hard hit by the stock market and I only have half of my investments in the stock market.  No wonder my broker called Friday for a little friendly chit chat.  He has never done that before.  (When you are as poor as I am, the brokers don't bother with you.) 

If things continue as they are now, when I really need the money it will all be gone.  I started to panic and then started to cry.  All those years of saving so that I could retire and travel are now all but gone.  What am I going to do?  I could truly understand why business men jumped to their deaths during the great recession. 

I was feeling that low but managed to pull myself together and do some ho-hum work.  (That is housework to those who enjoy it.  Personally, I find housework to be the most boring activity anyone can do and avoid it whenever possible.)  Then rather reluctantly I headed over to Darrell's house to spend the evening as promised.  Believe me, the mood I was in, I would not have gone if he had not sounded so pathetic when I told him I had things that needed to be done.

He suggested we go to Monk's Mound for a little walk.  I agreed but wasn't sure why he would want to climb up those steep mounds.  Turns out he had other ideas.  There is a path that runs through a stretch of woods on the Mounds property where perhaps one hundred wild deer live.  His intention was to startle some deer so that they would run and show themselves to us.  We walked all the way through the wooded area and only saw one lonely deer.  Once through the area we had the choice to turn around and retrace our steps back through the woods or walk along the edge of the woods in an open field back to where we began.  Since we were unable to stir up any deer in the woods I suggested we walk back along the edge. 

Wow! am I glad we went that way.  The deer were everywhere grazing on the tender grass in the fields.  We hadn't gone far when we saw three, then four more.  Once they spied us they shook they fluffy white tails at us and entered the woods out of sight.  One big doe decided to stand her ground and would not budge as we slowly walked towards her.  Finally she snorted, flicked her tail and left us standing alone.  We must have walked a mile around the woods stopping every once in a while to point at two or three deer quietly grazing. 

The finale came at the end of the trail.  The open field at the edge of the parking lot where we left the vet we saw eighteen deer grazing on sweet grass.  This must be a regular event because there were several cars parked on the edge of the parking lot with people taking pictures and watching through binoculars at these lovely animals.

Yes, I am still worried about my financial future, but today was still a day to remember.  The days go by so much faster as I grow older.  Remember how slowly the days pasted while we were in school?  Not any longer.  I will try to shake off the feeling of dread and remember, this was a special day. 

Witches Night Out

My little sister, Mary and I attended the 10th annual Witches Night Out in Historic Lebanon, Illinois.  This was Mary's first opportunity to attend, my 9th.  I have been fortunate to watch the annual activity go from only the merchants wearing witches costumes to over 100 women from all over the state wearing elaborate witch costumes competing for prizes.

We saw good witches dressed in pink and feathers, bad witches brazenly flashing their wickedness, teeny bopper witches wearing short short skirts and push up bras exposing as much flesh as the law will allow, old crones with warts and ghastly green complexions, beautiful witches dressed in flowing material with feather boas of all different colors, and cute little toddlers with striped socks, black frilly tutus and black pointed hats on their sweet little heads.  Even some of the men ventured out in their grandest wizardry suits and top hats. 

Mary was surprisingly quiet as we strolled along the streets observing the wide variety of costumes.
Finally I asked Mary if she was having fun, after all she just drove almost 4 hours to witness this event.  Turns out she was just enthralled with all the costumes and her head was filled with ideas of how she would create a witch costume.

I couldn't believe my ears.  I had wanted to dress in years past but didn't think I would be able to convince any of my friends they should join in the fun.  I had thought I had done well by convincing them to don one of my many witch hats.  Now I have someone and I didn't have to twist her arm to get her to do it with me. 

All the way home we discussed different options to decorate our witch costume.  We have one year to prepare.  We are going to start hitting yard sells and Good Will for black dresses that would be appropriate to adorn with feathers and sequins and whatever ephemera we can come up with.  My mind is all a whirl.  Should I wear a fitted black dress or one with yards and yards of material so that I can be noticed from a distance?  Perhaps taffeta?  It would make the most delightful crackling sound when I walked.  Should I check out the many Halloween patterns put out by the major dress making companies?  

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Next year all witches watch out,
Mary and Lou will be trampling about.

HeeeHeeeHeeeHeee (that is suppose to sound like a witch's cackle)

Grandma Nina's Nose - Another Sappy Saturday Story

My maternal grandmother was a real character but unfortunately she was ashamed of this fact, she tried to keep her personality hidden under a barrell.  She came from the poor side of the tracks and didn't want anyone to know it.  She wanted to be liked and respected by what she considered the good people of the world and was afraid they would look down on her because of her family.  As hard as she tried to hide it, her tongue often gave her secret away.  My father always spoke highly of her.  He said it doesn't matter where you came from.  It is where you went from there.  Grandma taught school in a little one room country school for $40.00 a month.  She saved her paychecks to buy her parents a home and to buy herself a horse and buggy to drive back and forth to school.

My favorite story told by my grandmother was about her nose.  She hated her round pugged nose.  She once told me God must have been running low on noses when she was being made so he just took a little bit of hamburger meat and rolled it into a ball and slapped it on her face.

Grandma's story goes like this:  When Grandma was carrying my mother, the first of three little girls, she thought to mark her by holding on to Grandpa's straight skinny nose all night long throughout the pregnacy.  It worked, my mother had a skinny nose much like Bob Hope's famous nose.  Raising children is a lot of hard work, especially back then when there was no automatic washers and dryers.  With every baby she let loose of Grandpa's nose a little more and by the time the last baby came along, Virginia, she just didn't have the strength to hold on resulting in a little girl with a round pug nose just like her mother's.

The Flavors of Fall

Awww, the sweet aroma and flavors of fall!. 

I know I said I was giving up cakes, candies and cookies.  My will power has failed me but let's put this in perspective.  I said I was giving up these sweets that I dearly love in exchange for the sweetness of life.  What could be sweeter than the flavors of fall?  

Last night I spent the evening with Darrell's sisters and brother-in-laws.  We had a delightful carefree dinner followed with dessert.  Norma had made some sort of pumpkin bars or cake.  The smells of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg were intoxicating.  I couldn't resist.  I had two little bites.  Just two.  Not bad.  Then as we were leaving for home we were asked to take leftovers.  Darrell declined and I over rode his decision.  Did I take the healthy foods?  Of course not.  I took a whole plate full of pumpkin cake and before retiring to my warm cozy bed I succumbed to the sweet intoxicating aroma of fall's spices with a big glass of milk.

How could I have been so blind?  Part of the sweetness of life is the warm fuzzy feeling we enjoy when we indulge our taste buds, to savour the rich flavors of spices.  It is a mistake to rigorously forbid ourselves to indulge in sugary foods.  The problem is not the cookies and candies, the problem is with binging.  Yes, I do binge.  I don't eat just one cookie.  I eat the whole box.

Joy can be found in the simple act of slowing down and truly savouring the flavors of your food, whether it be cookies and milk or a pork loin cooked slowly with vegetables. 

How will I delight my taste buds next?  I've been thinking I need to make a trip to Starbucks for a nice hot cup of chai tea latte.  Sweet bliss.  A little bit of heaven caressing my taste buds with cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom.

Dress Up Fun with Grandkids

When Sue and I were children one of our favorite activities while visiting our grandparents was dressing up in old clothes Grandma had packed away in a large box in an attic room.  My favorite was a pale yellow dress with a full skirt that swayed when I walked and made me feel so grown up and beautiful.  I would put that long dress on with a big sun bonnet and dance around the room.  Or, weather permitting I would swing as high as I could on the tree swing Grandpa had hung for us in an enormous tree in his backyard, feeling the soft material of the skirt as it blew up against my face, my eyes closed dreaming that I was the beautiful herione of the book I was reading.  (Even then I loved to read.)

My granddaughters have followed in their grandmothers footsteps.  They also love to dress up in old clothes I have kept just for them to play in. I pray that they are making precious memories of time spent with their grandmother as I did with mine.