A Good Read
http://futalandia.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Random Thoughts
1 Why do children make a mess of your house, then, join the Mr. Clean Club when they have their own place? Couldn’t they keep my house clean and, then, go make a mess in their own?
2 Why do husbands tromp in and out, in and out of the house, tracking in dirt and, then, when he comes in to stay--finally!--he takes his shoes off “to keep the floor clean”?
3 Why do my dogs bark at boogers at night when I can’t see what is?
4 Why do we tend to slow down as we get older when we have less time left to get things done.
5 Why do dryers shrink our clothes instead make them bigger? If things worked this way, I could still wear the bathing suit I bought last year.
6 Do insects scream when they see a human?
7 Dust bunnies don’t look aerodynamically designed. How is that they can fly around so fast when you’re trying to sweep them up? Airplane manufacturers should look into this.
8 Why did only some of the beasts of the earth get to have opposing thumbs?
9 Why is the dog who got skunked the one in the most affectionate mood?
10 Why do I feel compelled to make these list and, then, post them to prove that your opinion is correct?
2 Why do husbands tromp in and out, in and out of the house, tracking in dirt and, then, when he comes in to stay--finally!--he takes his shoes off “to keep the floor clean”?
3 Why do my dogs bark at boogers at night when I can’t see what is?
4 Why do we tend to slow down as we get older when we have less time left to get things done.
5 Why do dryers shrink our clothes instead make them bigger? If things worked this way, I could still wear the bathing suit I bought last year.
6 Do insects scream when they see a human?
7 Dust bunnies don’t look aerodynamically designed. How is that they can fly around so fast when you’re trying to sweep them up? Airplane manufacturers should look into this.
8 Why did only some of the beasts of the earth get to have opposing thumbs?
9 Why is the dog who got skunked the one in the most affectionate mood?
10 Why do I feel compelled to make these list and, then, post them to prove that your opinion is correct?
Friday, August 27, 2010
Ten Things You Might Not Know About Me
1 I like to smoke cigars.
2 Praying mantises terrify me. Literally, screaming, adrenalin-flowing terror.
3 I believe people who mistreat animals will go to Hell.
4 I like vultures. Their gliding flight is beautiful, yet their landing are laughter-inducing, bumpity, hoppity hops. Ironic.
5 Once my son’s lizard pooped in my hand. The one I used to hop around under the porch light to catch bugs for. Ungrateful reptile.
6 I like skulls. Their shapes have a beautifully sculptural quality.
7 I only had three wisdom teeth. That might explain a few things.
8 Once, I left yesterday’s undies wadded up in my jeans and they fell out during the Mardi Gras parade.
9 It would be fun to build a little house in the pasture from items scavenged from trash. Someone I know used a bathroom sink I brought home.
10 I do NOT like the color blue!
2 Praying mantises terrify me. Literally, screaming, adrenalin-flowing terror.
3 I believe people who mistreat animals will go to Hell.
4 I like vultures. Their gliding flight is beautiful, yet their landing are laughter-inducing, bumpity, hoppity hops. Ironic.
5 Once my son’s lizard pooped in my hand. The one I used to hop around under the porch light to catch bugs for. Ungrateful reptile.
6 I like skulls. Their shapes have a beautifully sculptural quality.
7 I only had three wisdom teeth. That might explain a few things.
8 Once, I left yesterday’s undies wadded up in my jeans and they fell out during the Mardi Gras parade.
9 It would be fun to build a little house in the pasture from items scavenged from trash. Someone I know used a bathroom sink I brought home.
10 I do NOT like the color blue!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
I Got a New Kit-teh
I have a new kitten, white, bright blue eyes, and a little pink nose. Eveready Bunny batteries were included. His fur doesn’t qualify as “long haired”, but it does warrant “fuzzy” and causes his new daddy’s nose to itch and tickle.
I did not intend to have a kitten. We already have a formal cat who insists upon wearing a tuxedo 24/7. A rabid rat terror resides here, too. Yes, I meant to say “terror”. If you’ve ever known one, you know why. If you’ve ever owned one, I sympathize. If you have one now, run while you can get out alive. All of these fur people are black, white, or black and white, but because of them our life is quite colorful. Irony.
My husband and I went to Monroe to get trim for the kitchen. There is trim here in Podunk, but it is only good enough to plug holes in old trim when you get desperate. We came home with two fish and 1 kitten, and no trim, but I can justify the kitty. The fish belong to my husband who has an aquarium.
While the fish guy was dipping plecostemes, I spotted Fuzz Face. It just so happened that his little enclosure jutted out like a bay window. I fully believe the people at the pet store set this up as a trap. It’s the only “bay window” in the place. Kit-teh was in the bay window being as cute as one little kitten could be without another kitten pitching in. He had me from, “Meow.” Sixty dollars later, we were carrying Fuzz Ball to the car. His real name is Jack Frost because he’s frosty white. It should be Buzz Ball since his past time is buzzing around the living room conducting low flyovers --or any other place he happens to…I started to say light, but he rarely does.
Nothing is safe from Mr. Fur Pants. Don’t wiggle your toes. Don’t blink your eyes. I’m so glad my optometrist refused to prescribe contacts for me. That has already saved my sight on several occasions. Don’t move your fingers or hands or anything else. Also subject to attack are books, paper, pens, dog toys, shoe strings, and an endless list of other motionless things that he sets into frantic (to escape) action.
Lest you think Whisker Face should be sent scatting back to the shelter, he does deserve a few good words on his behalf. He loves to snuggle. His purr is louder than thunder. He squeeks in his sleep. He isn’t in your plate when you yourself are bad and eat on the couch in front of the TV. He always poops in his poopie box. The last item is worth more than his weight in gold.
Much to our surprise, he has livened up Tuxedo Man. I should say we are surprised that he has livened up the old cat’s life in a good way. Hearing my new baby boy mewing for help, I hurried to investigate. Tuxedo was holding him down--no biting, just holding him. An adjustment time, after all, expected and Big Kitty wasn’t inflicting any damage. Back to chores. Tux mewing. Stinker Face had him down. Scratching and biting taking place on the part of Baby Boy. At that point, I figured things were going well. Nobody got hurt. Fifteen minutes later, I found them snuggled up in the bed. Not bookends, but on the same bed. No hard feelings.
Jack has doubled in size in the two weeks we’ve had him. I can no longer feel his hip bones and ribs. His ribs must be somewhere under the baby fat since he hasn’t dissolved into a slithering puddle, but I can‘t feel them anymore. One of my friends uses the phrase “fell into a pot of jam”. That’s a pretty apt description of what’s happened here. Welcome home, Jack!
This web site will crack you up, especially if you're a cat lover or not!
http://www.icanhazcheeseburger.com/
I did not intend to have a kitten. We already have a formal cat who insists upon wearing a tuxedo 24/7. A rabid rat terror resides here, too. Yes, I meant to say “terror”. If you’ve ever known one, you know why. If you’ve ever owned one, I sympathize. If you have one now, run while you can get out alive. All of these fur people are black, white, or black and white, but because of them our life is quite colorful. Irony.
My husband and I went to Monroe to get trim for the kitchen. There is trim here in Podunk, but it is only good enough to plug holes in old trim when you get desperate. We came home with two fish and 1 kitten, and no trim, but I can justify the kitty. The fish belong to my husband who has an aquarium.
While the fish guy was dipping plecostemes, I spotted Fuzz Face. It just so happened that his little enclosure jutted out like a bay window. I fully believe the people at the pet store set this up as a trap. It’s the only “bay window” in the place. Kit-teh was in the bay window being as cute as one little kitten could be without another kitten pitching in. He had me from, “Meow.” Sixty dollars later, we were carrying Fuzz Ball to the car. His real name is Jack Frost because he’s frosty white. It should be Buzz Ball since his past time is buzzing around the living room conducting low flyovers --or any other place he happens to…I started to say light, but he rarely does.
Nothing is safe from Mr. Fur Pants. Don’t wiggle your toes. Don’t blink your eyes. I’m so glad my optometrist refused to prescribe contacts for me. That has already saved my sight on several occasions. Don’t move your fingers or hands or anything else. Also subject to attack are books, paper, pens, dog toys, shoe strings, and an endless list of other motionless things that he sets into frantic (to escape) action.
Lest you think Whisker Face should be sent scatting back to the shelter, he does deserve a few good words on his behalf. He loves to snuggle. His purr is louder than thunder. He squeeks in his sleep. He isn’t in your plate when you yourself are bad and eat on the couch in front of the TV. He always poops in his poopie box. The last item is worth more than his weight in gold.
Much to our surprise, he has livened up Tuxedo Man. I should say we are surprised that he has livened up the old cat’s life in a good way. Hearing my new baby boy mewing for help, I hurried to investigate. Tuxedo was holding him down--no biting, just holding him. An adjustment time, after all, expected and Big Kitty wasn’t inflicting any damage. Back to chores. Tux mewing. Stinker Face had him down. Scratching and biting taking place on the part of Baby Boy. At that point, I figured things were going well. Nobody got hurt. Fifteen minutes later, I found them snuggled up in the bed. Not bookends, but on the same bed. No hard feelings.
Jack has doubled in size in the two weeks we’ve had him. I can no longer feel his hip bones and ribs. His ribs must be somewhere under the baby fat since he hasn’t dissolved into a slithering puddle, but I can‘t feel them anymore. One of my friends uses the phrase “fell into a pot of jam”. That’s a pretty apt description of what’s happened here. Welcome home, Jack!
This web site will crack you up, especially if you're a cat lover or not!
http://www.icanhazcheeseburger.com/
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
New Snake Rules
WARNING! This blog was written in jest, but Snakes aren‘t funny. They bite. Some are poisonous. Call your doctor or go to the emergency room if you are bitten.
No, the new snake does not rule. However, I am writing New Snake Rules. Recent events have convinced me that I need to update some of my Rules To Keep Me Living In the Country. Emphasis on “Living”. Staying alive is a top priority for me.
The pouty, little, rat terrier goes out at 10:00 every night. Ten is tee tee time. It used to, also, be the time we went to bed, but since neither of us work (referring to our employment status not our physical condition), we stay up later. The rat terrier’s bladder just hasn’t gotten the memo. Tonight, when we went outside, the other dogs were nosing around against the house and, then, suddenly, jumping backwards. Since our dogs don’t dance, I knew something was going on. Sniffin’, nosein’, and jumpin’ usually mean, “Snake!” Sometimes it means, “Rat!” or, “Grasshopper!” or, “Frog!,”. This time, it meant the statically favored “Snake!”.
When I was young and foolish, like last year, I thought it was so cool and mystical to be able to walk in the yard at night without my flash light and not trip and kill myself. Don’t ask why walking at night is different, but there is definitely something mystical going on because walking around in daylight causes me to trip and fall often. Notice the scar on my chin as well as the puncture mark on the left side of my upper lip. No, the puncture mark is not a memento from a date with a snake.
I saw a snake in the yard one night last week. I saw a snake in the yard last night. I saw a cotton mouth in the woods, today, thankfully from the relative safety of the four wheeler. I see snakes in the barn, the chicken coop, and in the Green Dragons. (This is not another country danger. It’s a plant.) I saw a copperhead snake in the carport one morning. That happened a few years back, but I get extra credit because this snake actually struck my foot. Luckily, it hit the boney top of my foot and couldn’t get a bite, so to speak. All of this must be God’s, “Heads up!” to me that I need to be more careful. Think, “Idiot Girl! Get a flashlight! And look where you‘re going while you‘re at it.”
There are three kinds of snakes: dead snakes, live snakes, and sticks that look like snakes. All of them can scare the bejeebers out of you! The rat terrier and I both have jumped at the sight of each of these. She screamed. I didn’t . I’m not afraid of snakes. She is. I do worry about the live ones being faster than I am, though, especially since a snake using a walker would be faster than I am. I’ve decided to take action. I’m amending my rules.
These are the annotated new rules.
Rule 1. Light Up the Night. Carry a flash light when you walk around at night. I am mighty lucky to NOT have won a free helicopter ride to the nearest emergency room already.
Rule 2. Be a Pistol Packin’ Momma. Shooting a snake can save you a lot of grief such as hysterical screaming, a coronary, or fainting and falling on a snake, not to mention, getting snake bitten. Carry your pistol when you walk in the woods especially in the summer. Snake are pretty darn lively when it’s warm. You can shoot a snake a lot faster than you can find a big stick and kill it. Especially, if you want the snake to be dead when you’re both finished workin‘ each other over. Even if you win, you will feel worked over.
Rule 3 Call Home, E.T. Carry your cell phone. If you lose your flash light, do NOT crawl around on the ground feeling for it. It’s okay to find a contact that way either in the daytime or at night. It is not okay to find a snake in either the dark or light. If your snake beatin‘ stick breaks, the pie chart chances of getting bitten increase. When the stick breaks, you probably have lost the match. If you shoot and miss, you have a better chance of getting away unscathed. Snakes don’t like the big bang in their ears any more than you do. If you lose the beatin’ or shootin’ match, you can still use your cell phone to call home so the heli can pick you up.
So in summary, don’t go outside at night without a flashlight. Very simple to remember. Save a life. Start with your own and work from there.
No, the new snake does not rule. However, I am writing New Snake Rules. Recent events have convinced me that I need to update some of my Rules To Keep Me Living In the Country. Emphasis on “Living”. Staying alive is a top priority for me.
The pouty, little, rat terrier goes out at 10:00 every night. Ten is tee tee time. It used to, also, be the time we went to bed, but since neither of us work (referring to our employment status not our physical condition), we stay up later. The rat terrier’s bladder just hasn’t gotten the memo. Tonight, when we went outside, the other dogs were nosing around against the house and, then, suddenly, jumping backwards. Since our dogs don’t dance, I knew something was going on. Sniffin’, nosein’, and jumpin’ usually mean, “Snake!” Sometimes it means, “Rat!” or, “Grasshopper!” or, “Frog!,”. This time, it meant the statically favored “Snake!”.
When I was young and foolish, like last year, I thought it was so cool and mystical to be able to walk in the yard at night without my flash light and not trip and kill myself. Don’t ask why walking at night is different, but there is definitely something mystical going on because walking around in daylight causes me to trip and fall often. Notice the scar on my chin as well as the puncture mark on the left side of my upper lip. No, the puncture mark is not a memento from a date with a snake.
I saw a snake in the yard one night last week. I saw a snake in the yard last night. I saw a cotton mouth in the woods, today, thankfully from the relative safety of the four wheeler. I see snakes in the barn, the chicken coop, and in the Green Dragons. (This is not another country danger. It’s a plant.) I saw a copperhead snake in the carport one morning. That happened a few years back, but I get extra credit because this snake actually struck my foot. Luckily, it hit the boney top of my foot and couldn’t get a bite, so to speak. All of this must be God’s, “Heads up!” to me that I need to be more careful. Think, “Idiot Girl! Get a flashlight! And look where you‘re going while you‘re at it.”
There are three kinds of snakes: dead snakes, live snakes, and sticks that look like snakes. All of them can scare the bejeebers out of you! The rat terrier and I both have jumped at the sight of each of these. She screamed. I didn’t . I’m not afraid of snakes. She is. I do worry about the live ones being faster than I am, though, especially since a snake using a walker would be faster than I am. I’ve decided to take action. I’m amending my rules.
These are the annotated new rules.
Rule 1. Light Up the Night. Carry a flash light when you walk around at night. I am mighty lucky to NOT have won a free helicopter ride to the nearest emergency room already.
Rule 2. Be a Pistol Packin’ Momma. Shooting a snake can save you a lot of grief such as hysterical screaming, a coronary, or fainting and falling on a snake, not to mention, getting snake bitten. Carry your pistol when you walk in the woods especially in the summer. Snake are pretty darn lively when it’s warm. You can shoot a snake a lot faster than you can find a big stick and kill it. Especially, if you want the snake to be dead when you’re both finished workin‘ each other over. Even if you win, you will feel worked over.
Rule 3 Call Home, E.T. Carry your cell phone. If you lose your flash light, do NOT crawl around on the ground feeling for it. It’s okay to find a contact that way either in the daytime or at night. It is not okay to find a snake in either the dark or light. If your snake beatin‘ stick breaks, the pie chart chances of getting bitten increase. When the stick breaks, you probably have lost the match. If you shoot and miss, you have a better chance of getting away unscathed. Snakes don’t like the big bang in their ears any more than you do. If you lose the beatin’ or shootin’ match, you can still use your cell phone to call home so the heli can pick you up.
So in summary, don’t go outside at night without a flashlight. Very simple to remember. Save a life. Start with your own and work from there.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Lists
When I actually worked--a word in my vocabulary that has also retired--I was a dyed in the wool list maker. And for good reason: I was--am--a dyed in the wool forgetter. While my lists kept me ontrack in day-to-day life, the lists Karen Wolrond makes will keep your life on track. See what you think.
http://www.chookooloonks.com/blog/
http://www.chookooloonks.com/blog/
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Why I Like Being Old
Grandmomma: Here’s your sprinkler for the water hose.
Megan: What took you so long?
Grandmomma: I’m old!
Megan: Do you like being old?
This is what I’ve dubbed a “whiplash” question because such a question makes your head whip around so fast that you could get whiplash. I wanted to quote that old saying, “Beats the alternative,” but her question set me to thinking. How do I feel about being old? If you have to do something like live, you might as well be happy about it.
Inside of ole saggy baggy is a 25 year old. (The number gets higher as I get older.) The evidence is pretty strong, however, that I am actually (a lot!) older than that. For one thing, I remember too many family firsts: first television, first air conditioner, first clothes dryer. On the other wrinkled hand, some of the things that I remember are extinct: Fizzies, Brilcreme, aluminum ice trays with pull handles, blue jean stretchers, and Howdy Doody. Hopefully, these will stay extinct.
One aspect of oldness that has increased the enjoyment of my position on the time line is changing the goals that I had in my foolish and ill-spent youth. These are goals which will effect every one of the remaining days of my life. My new goals are 1) comfort, 2) ease, and 3) cheapness. To insure Comfort, I have replaced my jeans and t-shirts with pajamas. I bought a new set, today, to further progress towards this goal. They were on sale at Cato’s. (Read further for comments regarding cheapness.) Comfort + coolness + easy care = triple score! As for the second goal, Easy, there are several worn (I am intimately aquainted with that word.) phrases that though seen everywhere are extremely important in attaining my new goals. Some examples are “premixed“, “complete kit“, “one step“, “heat and eat“. You get the picture. Concerning my third goal, Cheap is not an offensive word. (I offer the fact that it has 5 letters, not 4 as evidence.) Some would use the word economical in order to disguise the truth of their mission, but economical is a ten dollar word for a ten cent meaning and my clock is ticking towards elderly, so let’s just be honest, cut to the chase, and use the word cheap. I do admit that the word chase troubles me. It implies speed, which has passed, pardon the pun, from my life. To attain the goal of Cheap, I buy on sale or pick up reduced items and stay out of Sam’s because they are liars. The prices are the same as Wal-Mart’s and NObody needs 40 pounds of fiber rich cereal for improved colon health!
One of my favorite aspects of being old is the casual attitude that has oozed into my life. (and is threatening to flood and drown me) There are two sides to this. Others expect less of me--which is a mistake. I can still make oodles of no sense, screw up royally, and create just as big a mess right in the middle of the living room as when I was numerically young. Such episodes are met with shrugs and mutterings beneath the breath of, “She’s old.“ In addition, my own attitude has shifted. (That word holds special meaning for me.) The high standards I once held for myself have moseyed on down life’s road to plague some youngster who still believes in pride, progress, and self improvement. The crème may rise to the top, but it can turn to butter if too much shaking up occurs. I know this because that butter is stuck on my thighs.
Being old entitles me to perks that aren’t offered to those who are still in the early developmental stages. Consider these rewards for taking one step at a time with your walker towards another year: cheap sleep at Best Western , Picadilly‘s senior plates, reduced rate romps with Mickey and/or Minnie at Disney World , Dillard‘s discounts for seniors, and Rite Aid’s senior days. With all these senior offerings, I feel like I should graduate from something, but I’m afraid to ask what it is. There are also no charge checking accounts at the bank and special travel deals where strong people carry your luggage. The older we get and burden social security, the more gifts we get to make up for the lack of cost of living raises.
So, Megan, asker of whiplash questions, I do like being old. It does beat the alternative in most ways. After all, the next step is Heaven. Family is my favorite part of being old. My three contributions to the next generation are much gladder to see me than when they were teenagers. My daughters have taken over holiday cooking. My grandchildren think my vintage clothes from the 60s and 70s are kewl. These three things are great reasons to like being old, but there are six other good reasons: Megan, Katie, Kimmie, Aaron, Jasmine, and Natalie. In fact, these are the best reasons of all. Heaven, if it doesn’t mind, can wait. I want to hang with my grandpeeps a bit longer.
Megan: What took you so long?
Grandmomma: I’m old!
Megan: Do you like being old?
This is what I’ve dubbed a “whiplash” question because such a question makes your head whip around so fast that you could get whiplash. I wanted to quote that old saying, “Beats the alternative,” but her question set me to thinking. How do I feel about being old? If you have to do something like live, you might as well be happy about it.
Inside of ole saggy baggy is a 25 year old. (The number gets higher as I get older.) The evidence is pretty strong, however, that I am actually (a lot!) older than that. For one thing, I remember too many family firsts: first television, first air conditioner, first clothes dryer. On the other wrinkled hand, some of the things that I remember are extinct: Fizzies, Brilcreme, aluminum ice trays with pull handles, blue jean stretchers, and Howdy Doody. Hopefully, these will stay extinct.
One aspect of oldness that has increased the enjoyment of my position on the time line is changing the goals that I had in my foolish and ill-spent youth. These are goals which will effect every one of the remaining days of my life. My new goals are 1) comfort, 2) ease, and 3) cheapness. To insure Comfort, I have replaced my jeans and t-shirts with pajamas. I bought a new set, today, to further progress towards this goal. They were on sale at Cato’s. (Read further for comments regarding cheapness.) Comfort + coolness + easy care = triple score! As for the second goal, Easy, there are several worn (I am intimately aquainted with that word.) phrases that though seen everywhere are extremely important in attaining my new goals. Some examples are “premixed“, “complete kit“, “one step“, “heat and eat“. You get the picture. Concerning my third goal, Cheap is not an offensive word. (I offer the fact that it has 5 letters, not 4 as evidence.) Some would use the word economical in order to disguise the truth of their mission, but economical is a ten dollar word for a ten cent meaning and my clock is ticking towards elderly, so let’s just be honest, cut to the chase, and use the word cheap. I do admit that the word chase troubles me. It implies speed, which has passed, pardon the pun, from my life. To attain the goal of Cheap, I buy on sale or pick up reduced items and stay out of Sam’s because they are liars. The prices are the same as Wal-Mart’s and NObody needs 40 pounds of fiber rich cereal for improved colon health!
One of my favorite aspects of being old is the casual attitude that has oozed into my life. (and is threatening to flood and drown me) There are two sides to this. Others expect less of me--which is a mistake. I can still make oodles of no sense, screw up royally, and create just as big a mess right in the middle of the living room as when I was numerically young. Such episodes are met with shrugs and mutterings beneath the breath of, “She’s old.“ In addition, my own attitude has shifted. (That word holds special meaning for me.) The high standards I once held for myself have moseyed on down life’s road to plague some youngster who still believes in pride, progress, and self improvement. The crème may rise to the top, but it can turn to butter if too much shaking up occurs. I know this because that butter is stuck on my thighs.
Being old entitles me to perks that aren’t offered to those who are still in the early developmental stages. Consider these rewards for taking one step at a time with your walker towards another year: cheap sleep at Best Western , Picadilly‘s senior plates, reduced rate romps with Mickey and/or Minnie at Disney World , Dillard‘s discounts for seniors, and Rite Aid’s senior days. With all these senior offerings, I feel like I should graduate from something, but I’m afraid to ask what it is. There are also no charge checking accounts at the bank and special travel deals where strong people carry your luggage. The older we get and burden social security, the more gifts we get to make up for the lack of cost of living raises.
So, Megan, asker of whiplash questions, I do like being old. It does beat the alternative in most ways. After all, the next step is Heaven. Family is my favorite part of being old. My three contributions to the next generation are much gladder to see me than when they were teenagers. My daughters have taken over holiday cooking. My grandchildren think my vintage clothes from the 60s and 70s are kewl. These three things are great reasons to like being old, but there are six other good reasons: Megan, Katie, Kimmie, Aaron, Jasmine, and Natalie. In fact, these are the best reasons of all. Heaven, if it doesn’t mind, can wait. I want to hang with my grandpeeps a bit longer.
Sweet, Spirit Lifting Video
May God bless you with a person who will share joy and fun like these two do. Thank you to the person who shared it first.
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1184460703200
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1184460703200
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Charmingly Naked
Is there anything so charming as baby nakedness? A chubby, little, dimpled bum residing on little, chubby legs or from the front, a little pot bellied tummy on chubby legs are precious. Add big eyes and a little, self satisfied grin and grandmommas melt in mass.
The nakedness idea began on the way home from lunch. Nat’s mother--Oh, did I mention that she came with Nat?--said, “I need to hose her off.” The dogs would have been pleased as punch had we just set her on the ground, but we wanted to spare Nat the 90 pound Catahoula’s beach towel sized tongue. The word “hose” had switched on the light bulb above my head. “This needs to be done outside with the hose--naked,” popped into my head. Her mother agreed. They live in the city and occasions for outside nakedness are rare. Besides, Nat doesn’t mind bucking societal rules, and this was the perfect time and place.
Properly peeled, Nat took the hose. A big grin lit up Her Cuteness’s face as she looked up at her mother and succinctly summed up the situation, “Naked”. Our faces were alight, also. (Though the descriptive “child-like” would be more accurate here since my face leans more toward the descriptive “old“. The only shared characteristic being “fat”.) Here was innocence and delightful fun rolled into one chubby bundle. Docked on the patio, (read converted driveway) we all got down to business. Natty sprayed herself, flung water on us, and drove all of the dogs into hiding.
Have you ever noticed that when water is involved in a child’s play, the grownups feel compelled to provide toys in as great a multitude as possible? If sto-bought toys aren’t available, improvised ones are just dandy. So, there sat Nat, in an under-the-bed storage box with the top ripped off and a crack in the bottom, playing with a Styrofoam cup, a red, plastic cup, and a bright yellow watering can with a white plaster flower glued to its side. Her mother threw in a plastic Dora and Piglet figure. Strange mixture, but we’ll not call attention to the difference of genre’ between Piglet and Dora.
Piglet swam. Dora floated on her back in a puddle along with the dirt, grass and acorn bits who had come to play. Nat poured water from cup to cup, cup to watering can, and vice versa. Then, Dora was playfully dunked into the watering can several times. Piglet escaped water abuse. Nat’s droopy eyelids and swaying body signaled an end to the fun. She was scooped up, diapered, and put down for her nap.
If you love a child, raise your hand. Mommas love their babies no matter that they are approaching 40 and getting the first of many gray hairs to follow. Grandbabies are different. As the nurse placed my daughter’s new born in her arms, she looked at her and said, “You just moved into second place.” That about sums it up.
The nakedness idea began on the way home from lunch. Nat’s mother--Oh, did I mention that she came with Nat?--said, “I need to hose her off.” The dogs would have been pleased as punch had we just set her on the ground, but we wanted to spare Nat the 90 pound Catahoula’s beach towel sized tongue. The word “hose” had switched on the light bulb above my head. “This needs to be done outside with the hose--naked,” popped into my head. Her mother agreed. They live in the city and occasions for outside nakedness are rare. Besides, Nat doesn’t mind bucking societal rules, and this was the perfect time and place.
Properly peeled, Nat took the hose. A big grin lit up Her Cuteness’s face as she looked up at her mother and succinctly summed up the situation, “Naked”. Our faces were alight, also. (Though the descriptive “child-like” would be more accurate here since my face leans more toward the descriptive “old“. The only shared characteristic being “fat”.) Here was innocence and delightful fun rolled into one chubby bundle. Docked on the patio, (read converted driveway) we all got down to business. Natty sprayed herself, flung water on us, and drove all of the dogs into hiding.
Have you ever noticed that when water is involved in a child’s play, the grownups feel compelled to provide toys in as great a multitude as possible? If sto-bought toys aren’t available, improvised ones are just dandy. So, there sat Nat, in an under-the-bed storage box with the top ripped off and a crack in the bottom, playing with a Styrofoam cup, a red, plastic cup, and a bright yellow watering can with a white plaster flower glued to its side. Her mother threw in a plastic Dora and Piglet figure. Strange mixture, but we’ll not call attention to the difference of genre’ between Piglet and Dora.
Piglet swam. Dora floated on her back in a puddle along with the dirt, grass and acorn bits who had come to play. Nat poured water from cup to cup, cup to watering can, and vice versa. Then, Dora was playfully dunked into the watering can several times. Piglet escaped water abuse. Nat’s droopy eyelids and swaying body signaled an end to the fun. She was scooped up, diapered, and put down for her nap.
If you love a child, raise your hand. Mommas love their babies no matter that they are approaching 40 and getting the first of many gray hairs to follow. Grandbabies are different. As the nurse placed my daughter’s new born in her arms, she looked at her and said, “You just moved into second place.” That about sums it up.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
My Parents Marked Me For Life
We were talking the other day and realized that we are old. How this happened is not clear since we are old and our memory has taken a quick zip down the other side of the mountain. We think we are at least a couple of ions old because when we tell a story about what we do remember, one of our off spring or an off spring’s off spring will comment, “Was that in the dinosaur age, Nana?” or some other sage observation.
After the realization that we are indeed old, the conversation progressed to things our parents said that have gone by the wayside in this age of (questionable) progress. Some of our friends may remember these, but, then, they are old, too, so, who knows? Our young friends, the ones who are less than an ion old, haven’t got a clue because they were born after computers despite disbelieving there was ever was such a time.
THE SAYINGS
#1: “If you don’t straighten up, you‘re gonna get a whippin‘!” Yes, our parents actually made this threat and actually carried through, though not with an actual whip. Usually. Equally amazing, had we called Child Services, they would have snorted into the phone and said something like, “If you’d straighten up and fly right, you wouldn’t have to worry!”. There was no chance of escaping their cruelty.
#2 “”Because I said so.” It’s amazing that we actually thought this was a valid reason for us to a) not to get to do something or b) to have to do something. Either way, your plans changed instantly. Parents were at one time not required to explain their reasons. Evidently, when they brought us home from the hospital they received a certificate excusing them from having to explain their actions to their children.
Saying 3: “You come here this instant!” Children used to be much faster. Probably from being forced to play outside even in the hot summer. I’ve observed that, in this age, when parents say this to a child, the child gets “here” a good deal slower. Modern parents understand this, though, and allow their children 5 or 6 extra minutes to arrive.
Saying 4: “Eat all the food on your plate or no dessert!” Now, I want to say right now that this is the reason I’m fat! My mother, on many occasions advised me of this. Her desserts put anyone else’s dessert to shame and by Georgie, I was going to have that sugary, fat-laden goodie she’d whipped up even if I were to burst. Well worth the pain since this would have left room for a second helping of dessert .
Saying 5: “Get in the back seat {of the car} and go to sleep.” I’m lucky to be alive. A sudden stop and I would have gone flying around the car like a crazed bumble bee. On the other hand, cars were made of real metal, so it might not have been too bad. Since my favorite place to nap in the family car was on the ledge beneath the back window, that big, rotund land yacht may not have helped much. .
In addition to these little ditties, my mother was guilty of mental cruelty. Our washing machine was in the kitchen and on the faucet handles resided a 6 foot long switch. It was in full view every time I came into the kitchen. Because of this flagant flaunting, I became a perfect child.
The things my parents said to me, the way they treated me, including discipline, left mark that is still there to this day. If you want to see it, it’s on my heart. Both of their names are written there. All the letters i are dotted with a heart. I think the mark will last forever.
We were talking the other day and realized that we are old. How this happened is not clear since we are old and our memory has taken a quick zip down the other side of the mountain. We think we are at least a couple of ions old because when we tell a story about what we do remember, one of our off spring or an off spring’s off spring will comment, “Was that in the dinosaur age, Nana?” or some other sage observation.
After the realization that we are indeed old, the conversation progressed to things our parents said that have gone by the wayside in this age of (questionable) progress. Some of our friends may remember these, but, then, they are old, too, so, who knows? Our young friends, the ones who are less than an ion old, haven’t got a clue because they were born after computers despite disbelieving there was ever was such a time.
THE SAYINGS
#1: “If you don’t straighten up, you‘re gonna get a whippin‘!” Yes, our parents actually made this threat and actually carried through, though not with an actual whip. Usually. Equally amazing, had we called Child Services, they would have snorted into the phone and said something like, “If you’d straighten up and fly right, you wouldn’t have to worry!”. There was no chance of escaping their cruelty.
#2 “”Because I said so.” It’s amazing that we actually thought this was a valid reason for us to a) not to get to do something or b) to have to do something. Either way, your plans changed instantly. Parents were at one time not required to explain their reasons. Evidently, when they brought us home from the hospital they received a certificate excusing them from having to explain their actions to their children.
Saying 3: “You come here this instant!” Children used to be much faster. Probably from being forced to play outside even in the hot summer. I’ve observed that, in this age, when parents say this to a child, the child gets “here” a good deal slower. Modern parents understand this, though, and allow their children 5 or 6 extra minutes to arrive.
Saying 4: “Eat all the food on your plate or no dessert!” Now, I want to say right now that this is the reason I’m fat! My mother, on many occasions advised me of this. Her desserts put anyone else’s dessert to shame and by Georgie, I was going to have that sugary, fat-laden goodie she’d whipped up even if I were to burst. Well worth the pain since this would have left room for a second helping of dessert .
Saying 5: “Get in the back seat {of the car} and go to sleep.” I’m lucky to be alive. A sudden stop and I would have gone flying around the car like a crazed bumble bee. On the other hand, cars were made of real metal, so it might not have been too bad. Since my favorite place to nap in the family car was on the ledge beneath the back window, that big, rotund land yacht may not have helped much. .
In addition to these little ditties, my mother was guilty of mental cruelty. Our washing machine was in the kitchen and on the faucet handles resided a 6 foot long switch. It was in full view every time I came into the kitchen. Because of this flagant flaunting, I became a perfect child.
The things my parents said to me, the way they treated me, including discipline, left mark that is still there to this day. If you want to see it, it’s on my heart. Both of their names are written there. All the letters i are dotted with a heart. I think the mark will last forever.
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