My knees are weak and my head is spinning. That is the result of a grocery shopping trip! It isn't like I haven't been in a grocery store in months, I didn't go last week because we didn't need anything. But I am starting to wonder if we should consider taking out a loan to purchase a jar of peanut butter?
Yes, I am aware of drought conditions, I live in south Georgia! The dry ponds have not escaped my sight. I am also aware of the fields of corn planted for bio fuel!!!!! This all comes together to make me mad when I pay for our groceries. Stepping down from my soap box now, before I get wound up.
Perhaps stores should consider keeping E.M.T. personnel on site to help customers that faint, develop breathing difficulties, or even heart problems from the rising prices. An 8 ounce block of name brand cream cheese was $2.59!!! My husband jokingly said that we should get a cow. I asked him if he remembered how much we just paid for chicken feed?
Monday, September 24, 2012
Emmett is the remaining orphaned goat that we have here. The other goat has a home with a special little girl. When the kids came here, I had no intention of turning them into pets. Then there were some 4 a.m. feedings, which only lasted about a week. The babies were wrapped in a blanket to keep them still. The bottle feeding lasted for 6 weeks. Then the 2 babies cried when they saw me outside and circled my legs when I was close. The best laid plans are for the birds.
Now Emmett is growing, but he is just a “big ole baby” according to my husband. Emmett has a silly nick name, and runs to me. He does not understand why I can’t pick him up and hold him like I did when he was a baby. He wants me to sit down so he can climb into my lap. That will not be happening. Emmett acts more like a dog than a goat! Quickly, I realized that if Emmett were to remain with us, he had to learn some manners.
Emmett continued to grow and change. His voice changed too, he paid no attention when I laughed at his new voice. Emmett is Clover’s nephew; Clover’s twin sister was his mother. Now that Clover is gone, and Emmett is growing, he needs a larger home. The logical choice was to put him in Clover’s home.
Emmett was escorted to Clover’s home. He walked into Clover’s home and was delighted to discover that the grass needed mowing. He was happy to do the job. Then feeding time came, his supper was brought to him, all was well. Evening came, Emmett began to cry. Running around Aunt Clover’s home was not as fun in the dark. Emmett began to cry louder and louder, ask my neighbors they had to have heard him. Finally the crying became intolerable.
The gate was opened and the crying stopped immediately. I stood there with my hands on my hips, and Emmett circled my legs like the “big ole baby” he truly is. We walked back to his baby pen, where he happily ran inside. Instinct tells me that there will be many adventures involving Emmett. Like his Aunt Clover, he has a huge personality. Leading me to ask, does Emmett belong to us, or do we belong to Emmett?
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Gran was my maternal Grandmother. She lived a careful and frugal life, and believed in taking care of her things. Perhaps the things that she owned were not the most expensive or finest quality, but that was okay with her. Gran kept things neat and clean, that was important.
This was her dresser. It is now in my bedroom.
My bedroom is not made up of fancy things, simply things that make me feel comfortable and make me smile. This dresser scarf came from a yard or estate sale. Some seamstress put her love and time into this piece, it makes me smile.
Bluebirds make me smile! Gran loved bluebirds too. This one was not hers, it has been with me for years.
A box of Gran's dusting powder sits on top the dresser.
Gran is on the right, the picture was taken on vacation. The quality is not as good as pictures now, but Gran is smiling in the picture. The baby on the left is me.
There are nicks and dings in this dresser from years of use. More than likely a few of those nicks and dents came from the grandchildren, myself included. "Don't run in the house" and "close the refrigerator" were two of the things that we heard the most from her! Sweet memories now!
There are some that would say refinish or paint this piece. Not me, I love each imperfection, and have no desire to change it! The accessories on top change as the mood strikes, but the dresser beneath those trinkets and pretties remains the same.
Sweet memories from a precious Gran come to mind daily when I look at this piece.
Joining the following
Lavender Garden Cottage for Cottage Style Linky Party #11
Cozy Little House for Tweak It Tuesday
A Delightsome Life for Home and Garden Thursday
Trish's Heart & Home for Heart & Home link-up
Have A Daily Cup of Mrs. Olson for Share Your Cup Thursday
The Dedicated House for Make It Pretty Monday
From My Front Porch To Yours for Treasure Hunt Thursday
Stone Gable for Tutorial Tips and Tidbits
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Honey looked at her bed and sniffed. She knew that someone had been sleeping in her bed, and it was not Goldilocks! It was Atticus!
Finally he was caught in the act, the above picture is proof. Honey will not press charges, but she is demanding an Atticus proof bed. It seems that he messes up the covers and she works hard to make her bed comfortable!
Monday, September 17, 2012
September is World Alzheimer’s Awareness Month. There are currently 5.4 million Americans, who live with this disease. Roughly 800,000 of those people live alone. Unless a cure is found, there could be as many as 16 million Americans by the year 2050. Out of the top 10 deadly diseases, it is the sixth leading cause of death. It is the only one of those top 10 that cannot be cured, prevented or slowed. The cost for care in the United States alone, for 2012 is estimated to be $200 million dollars.
These numbers suggest that we will each be affected in some way by this disease. Some will have the disease, some will care for those with the disease, some will have a loved one with the disease, and some will know, or know of, someone with Alzheimer’s. We will all be affected in some way by the beast.
If Daddy and I were able to have a conversation about the beast, and I told him about my feelings, the response that he would give me pushes me forward. Daddy would turn his head to the side a bit and look in my eyes and ask “what are you doing about it?”.
There were many conversations between the two of us and this was the question he asked me, especially when a situation seemed impossible. My response would be something like this. I can’t stop the beast by myself, so I am doing as many things as I can to help others find a cure. Sadly, a cure will not come in time for Daddy, but for others it may.
This month, I am wearing a purple ribbon. My daughter is walking again this year, and she is planning another Bake/Yard Sale in Daddy’s honor. I will help her. We donate to the Alzheimer’s Association, to help find a cure. I pray. I write. I remain hopeful.
It will take many people working together to end the disease. You can make a difference. Your prayers, time, or possibly a monetary contribution to the Alzheimer’s Association will help end this disease. Many small contributions will go together to create a large difference. None of us have immunity to this beast called Alzheimer’s. We will each feel the wrath of this evil and destructive beast in some fashion. Knowing that, I find myself unable to sit back and do nothing.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
It seems as if everything is happening early this year. This is the field behind my parents home. Please excuse the quality of pictures, my phone was used for these pictures.
Below is a bloom, It will turn pink, fall off and a cotton boll will appear.
This is a lovely sight to me, I enjoy watching cotton grow and change.
Monday, September 10, 2012
My family is funny, even though they don’t always realize that they are amusing. There have been times that I have been told not to write about some of the things that they do. The really good stuff remains unknown to the readers of these musings. These things will remain unwritten until I am an old lady, unless of course my sweet Honey Girl wants to write about them. Mama did not tell her that she couldn’t write about these things.
A friend from my childhood recently contacted me on Facebook, and sent a message that was complimentary and uplifting. My friend commented that he can relate to the things that are written here. That comment made me wonder, are there other families like mine?
Are these families breathing a sigh of relief that there is not a writer in the family? Do other families have a female that shocked and amazed gas station attendants with her strength, over 30 years ago in another town? Guessing that particular honor belongs to my family alone, and we are proud of it! That is one of those stories that I can’t write about.
What are other families doing that is funny? Do you have a possum hunter in your family? Is there a woman that points at her offspring and shouts “that is my baby” when she sees her child at busy intersections? Anyone with the guts to sing a bad country song while chasing their child through the store? What does your family wear when they chase an escaped goat?
We can’t be alone, there are others out there and we know it now. We are not by ourselves in this cruel and humorless world. Then the thought occurred to me, maybe that was not what my friend meant. Maybe they are normal. Maybe my friend was trying to tell me that the reason that he can relate to my stories is because we grew up together. Maybe he was just being nice. Maybe we are alone.
Whatever the reason, history repeats itself, so my family will continue to provide laughter for those around us in the stories that can be told and private laughter in the stories that are not supposed to be told. We choose not to believe that you are different from us, you just don’t have me in your family to see the humor in your actions.
Friday, September 7, 2012
My article for Sunday ran in Thursday's paper, and is below. Hope that you enjoy it, especially if you remember the things that I do!
Recently our cell phone provider called us (for the 157th time) to let us know that we can upgrade our phones. You see my phone is 2 years old, and is a flip phone. Operation of this phone is simple and I did not need to attend a class to learn how to use my phone. Call me out of date, behind the times, or old fashioned, it doesn’t matter to me. My phone has a few ringtones and my daughter taught me how to text, that is enough.
The current fascination with phones does not impress me. Young people would be crippled without these devices. They would have to figure out how to speak and communicate face to face with actual human beings. They would have to type using more than their thumbs. Remember manual typewriters? That is how my generation learned to type.
My daughter and I were talking about phones and how they have changed in her lifetime. Laughing I told her that we had party lines during my early teen years. You had to listen for a dial tone before dialing. The other “parties” on your line could be using the phone. This was before the private lines that we now enjoy and dialing direct. She asked what dialing direct was. I explained that we dialed 0 and talked to the operator to call long distance. She was amazed that such an antiquated means of communication had actually existed. I felt another line creep across my face and the arthritis began to kick in.
“That is awful to have had a party line! How did you handle that as a teenager?” she asked me. I told her that it was easier than rounding up the dinosaur and riding over to the cave of the person that you wanted to talk to. My offspring paused for a moment; trying to decide if that was true.
In the meantime, we have no interest in our provider’s fancy phones. My phone works, for now, and it does what it needs to do. As long as it continues to work, that is good enough. If I need something to sing and dance, well I can do that for myself, and without a contract! Now if you will excuse me, I have a dinosaur to deal with, that old flip phone is ringing.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
There are some magazines that are just too good to toss, in fact the one below is one that I will not loan out. It is that good to me! Browsing through this magazine never gets old or boring to me.
This is by no means a new magazine, but it is well loved.
The pictures have been viewed so many times, they should be memorized by now. I love this porch! I need this porch!
This bedroom is so pretty to me. My guestroom should look just like this one! Every detail is perfect, it looks comfortable and inviting. I need this bedroom!
Love this basket that holds towels. I need a basket like that too!
Big Sigh!! Still love this magazine!
Do you do this too? Do you keep certain magazines? Please tell me that I am not alone!!! This one is too good to toss, the pictures are as lovely to me now as they were when it was published 10 years ago. Country Home is one of my favorite magazines anyway, but this issue grabbed my attention all of the way through. Just don't ask to borrow this magazine, after 10 years, I am not ready to part with it yet!
Monday, September 3, 2012
This is an article from the past. There was a mix up and my article did not run in yesterday's paper. Atticus was happy to step in and be the subject of today's musing. Wishing everyone a great Labor Day!
Atticus was named after one of my favorite literary characters, Atticus Finch, from the novel To Kill A Mockingbird. Atticus Finch was wise, my Atticus, not so much. Atticus Finch was a lean man in the movie, again my Atticus, different story. My Atticus has this white mark over his lip, and appears to be dignified, looks are often deceiving. The character Atticus was a kind man, my Atticus is, well he is a jerk.
He is however, my jerk. Disaster, mischief and Atticus are close friends. Atticus has chosen me to be his person. That means that if he decides that he is hungry at 3 a.m., Kevin is not the person he wakes up. If he wants to sleep on TOP of someone, Kevin is not the person he sleeps on top of. All 5,000 pounds of him, no he really doesn’t weigh that much, it just feels like it. Should I make the mistake of sitting down, Atticus is there to put an end to any ideas of rest.
The Christmas of 2010, I got the crazy idea to put up a Christmas tree. Thinking that Atticus may not bother a fake tree, we purchased one. The tree was assembled, the lights carefully placed on the tree, I made the mistake of leaving the room for few moments. Walking back into the living room, I watched the tree sway, and crash to the floor. Atticus came running out of my tree. The whole scene was like something out of a cartoon, only it was a real life moment. Needless to say the tree was ruined, as were the lights and part of that tree has never been found.
The first time Atticus chose to run down the stairs was a terrifying moment. It sounded as if the house was being destroyed, or maybe an entire herd of wild horses was running downstairs. It was merely Atticus having some fun. He always stops at the end of his mischief and looks at me, rubs against my legs and meows softly. Atticus knows when he does something that he shouldn’t.
Atticus watched me play the piano, and decided to give it a try. He believes that anything that I do, he does better. Atticus jumped up onto the bench. Pressing the keys with his front paws, he mimicked what he had watched me do. It was not music to my ears; perhaps Atticus had a different opinion. Looking at the picture, you will notice Atticus sitting on the piano keys. I now keep it closed to prevent Atticus from doing that again.
Why, you may ask, do we keep such a creature of mischief in our home? The answer is simple. Atticus has a toy mouse, and this mouse is attacked regularly, and with a vengeance. Should a real mouse make the mistake of coming into my home, the outcome would not be pretty. I consider it worth the price of his mischief to prevent these unwelcome events. Not to mention the tears and freak out cleaning session that would occur if a mouse found his way into our home.
This story ends with a promise to all rodents, you are not welcome here! Atticus is around and waiting. My feels like 5,000 pounds, mischievous jerk is waiting, rodents beware!
Missing piece update - I have to be honest and tell you that we found the missing piece of the Christmas Tree 1 year later. You can read about it here. If you are wondering what Atticus is thinking about, you can read about it here. As I said, he may be a mischievous jerk, but he is my mischievous jerk.