Thursday morning, Thor's day, remember. It is only five but I have chased "I" around the yard as she woke the neighbors with her barking. The weather is beautiful. I wish it would stay Fall all year long.
When I talked to my sister yesterday morning she asked if I might have been in Wichita the day before. "Of course not," I answered. Why did you ask?" "Because," she said, "I read in the Leavenworth Times where a Little Debbie Truck was robbed and a load of Little Debbie's stolen." Dang, now that's a robbery worth pulling.
Visions dance across my mind. Myself, stacks of Little Debbie's along beside me. Variety's of every kind. My eyes glaze over with the sight. My mouth waters and I have to shake myself to keep from snacking on my finger, I am instantly hungry.
Then I vision the police coming to my door. Some big cop pushing me aside to bellow. "Where are they." "Where's what," I gulp as I try to brush crumbs from my mouth. Guilt written all over my face. Officer," I would cry, "Honest I didn't do it." The Officer would look around to see all the empty wrappers strewn across the floor. "Oops," It looks like I've been busted.
Now I didn't go to Wichita and I didn't steal all those Debbie's. But if I had been in the vicinity and the truck had been unlocked. Who could say what would have happened. The reason my sister thought I might be guilty was number one, There was Little Debbie's involved, number two there was boxes and empty wrappers all over the ground at the scene. Now that is what I would have done. Once I had all those cakes in my procession I would have never been able to make my get away before I started snacking. A truck load of Little Debbies. What a dream come true.
Now I have not pulled any robberies but I better stay away from trucks loaded with Little Debbie's just in case. But I guess for today I should try to make my way once again out of Blogland. I'm brushing the crumbs off my mouth as I go. Excuse me I just burped. Too much cake. See you, I'm outta here.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
WE MISS YOU LITTLE BUBS.
Wednesday is here, mid-week with its promise of the weekend beckoning to us. The days sort of run together for me as I don't work anymore. When I worked the weekend was a worthy prize to work towards. These days I can't seem to tell Monday from Saturday. They all feel the same.
Early yesterday morning a beloved member of our family left this world as we know it. He was a whiny, cranky, fifteen pound bundle of joy to us. he was known as "H", Bubbie, Bubs and sometimes Whiny Butt. His tricks was he could steal cookies at lightening speed, sing although it sounded like a shrill whine and dance in a circle with a silly smile on his face. He knew the Emperors cell phone ring when he called home. Then he would promptly start his screeching. You see daddy was on the other end. Then he would race to the door, wanting to go wait by the gate in case The Emperor was on his way home. At the gate he waited till he saw our car. Then he started his yapping, sounding as if he was in great pain. In thrilled anticipation of the Emperors return.
His biggest feat of all was that he loved with all his little heart. He never in all of his nine years knew he was a dog. He believed he was our child. So that was the way we treated him. There are many people who have pets and they know they are pets. It wasn't that way for us. It still isn't that way with us and "I". It doesn't matter if folks thinks us crazy. "H" was family. His silly smile and little face played such a big part of our life's.
Our big tough Emperor sat in his chair for an hour after "H's" passing, holding him in his arms. He told him what a great pal he had been and he loved him. The Emperor cried and I sitting in the dining room sobbed along.
"H" had been a Motel dog when we managed the Westwood.People would come from the hospital to get a room and would have heard people talk about "H" in the Intensive care waiting room. When they checked in they would ask to see him. He was a character. Funny and a pain in the butt But he gave to us far more than we ever gave back. Farewell old friend. You have left a empty space that time will ever fill.
So it is with a heavy heart I leave Blogland today. My steps slower than usual. I call out through the open space of Blogland. "Do Doggies go to heaven?" There is no sound that echos back. Well, if they don't they should. Somehow I still think he is here, just waiting on his cookie . For now though Blogland, I'm outta here.
Early yesterday morning a beloved member of our family left this world as we know it. He was a whiny, cranky, fifteen pound bundle of joy to us. he was known as "H", Bubbie, Bubs and sometimes Whiny Butt. His tricks was he could steal cookies at lightening speed, sing although it sounded like a shrill whine and dance in a circle with a silly smile on his face. He knew the Emperors cell phone ring when he called home. Then he would promptly start his screeching. You see daddy was on the other end. Then he would race to the door, wanting to go wait by the gate in case The Emperor was on his way home. At the gate he waited till he saw our car. Then he started his yapping, sounding as if he was in great pain. In thrilled anticipation of the Emperors return.
His biggest feat of all was that he loved with all his little heart. He never in all of his nine years knew he was a dog. He believed he was our child. So that was the way we treated him. There are many people who have pets and they know they are pets. It wasn't that way for us. It still isn't that way with us and "I". It doesn't matter if folks thinks us crazy. "H" was family. His silly smile and little face played such a big part of our life's.
Our big tough Emperor sat in his chair for an hour after "H's" passing, holding him in his arms. He told him what a great pal he had been and he loved him. The Emperor cried and I sitting in the dining room sobbed along.
"H" had been a Motel dog when we managed the Westwood.People would come from the hospital to get a room and would have heard people talk about "H" in the Intensive care waiting room. When they checked in they would ask to see him. He was a character. Funny and a pain in the butt But he gave to us far more than we ever gave back. Farewell old friend. You have left a empty space that time will ever fill.
So it is with a heavy heart I leave Blogland today. My steps slower than usual. I call out through the open space of Blogland. "Do Doggies go to heaven?" There is no sound that echos back. Well, if they don't they should. Somehow I still think he is here, just waiting on his cookie . For now though Blogland, I'm outta here.
Monday, September 27, 2010
WITH MY HIGH HEELS ON.
It is here the dreaded Monday. The weekend lies behind us already a blurred memory. Now a new week, bright and shiny. Okay lets see what I can goof up this week.
Yesterday was a was busy day. I went to church, don't gasp. The roof stayed up and the people were friendly. I always feel like when I attend a new church they see my bleached hair and think they have a real sinner in the crowd. But I made it in and made it out, without incidence. It was a nice church and they lived up to their name. Friendship Baptist.
It was football yesterday with shouts of glee from my sister viva telephone and curses from the Emperor. The Chefs won again yesterday. So that means another dollar goes into the mail this morning. The Emperor is not happy. My sister is very happy. I went around the house singing, "Go Chefs, Go." The Emperor kept chasing me out of the bedroom. Screaming I was not funny.
Then amidst all the football hullabaloo my daughter called. She had some things for me from Mike's storage. Many wonderful items. Among the treaures was three pair of shoes. They fit, they were new. The only problem they were three or four inch heels. I would wager they were closer to four. I love really high heels. I am five foot-nine. So I do not wear the really high shoes. It makes me around 6ft-one. But yesterday I put them on, they slipped on with ease. I was so tall I bent forward. I danced, I did the soft shoe. The dogs and Steve watched in awe and amazement at this tall person, bent forward , lurching through the house., singing a song.
Tonight is, "Dancing with the stars." I intend to have them on when the show starts. I always jump up and dance with the stars. Tonight I am ready for the big show. I will have my shoes on and ready to rock. I think the main dance tonight is the Jive. Get ready world for the sight of your life.
It takes so little to make me happy these days. Now I have eased into seniorhood. So with my tall high heels on I will dance my way out of Blogland. I need the pratice for ronight. Oops, I almost tripped. For now though, I'm outta here.
Yesterday was a was busy day. I went to church, don't gasp. The roof stayed up and the people were friendly. I always feel like when I attend a new church they see my bleached hair and think they have a real sinner in the crowd. But I made it in and made it out, without incidence. It was a nice church and they lived up to their name. Friendship Baptist.
It was football yesterday with shouts of glee from my sister viva telephone and curses from the Emperor. The Chefs won again yesterday. So that means another dollar goes into the mail this morning. The Emperor is not happy. My sister is very happy. I went around the house singing, "Go Chefs, Go." The Emperor kept chasing me out of the bedroom. Screaming I was not funny.
Then amidst all the football hullabaloo my daughter called. She had some things for me from Mike's storage. Many wonderful items. Among the treaures was three pair of shoes. They fit, they were new. The only problem they were three or four inch heels. I would wager they were closer to four. I love really high heels. I am five foot-nine. So I do not wear the really high shoes. It makes me around 6ft-one. But yesterday I put them on, they slipped on with ease. I was so tall I bent forward. I danced, I did the soft shoe. The dogs and Steve watched in awe and amazement at this tall person, bent forward , lurching through the house., singing a song.
Tonight is, "Dancing with the stars." I intend to have them on when the show starts. I always jump up and dance with the stars. Tonight I am ready for the big show. I will have my shoes on and ready to rock. I think the main dance tonight is the Jive. Get ready world for the sight of your life.
It takes so little to make me happy these days. Now I have eased into seniorhood. So with my tall high heels on I will dance my way out of Blogland. I need the pratice for ronight. Oops, I almost tripped. For now though, I'm outta here.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
SISTER WIVES
Sunday morning again. The days keep rolling by. Its cool out this morning, not cold. Just wonderfully cool. I've been up since 3:30. By four I was chasing "I" around the yard., hollering her name in a loud stage whisper. Gosh the neighbors love me, I'm sure. Especially Evelyn's daughter that lives upstairs over her. She does not like "I" at all, nor me. The nerve of some people.
Have you heard about a new show on,"TLC, called "Sister Wives?" I have not watched it or intend too. But it irks the heck out of me. Do you know how much uproar there would be if there was a show called,"Brother Husbands?" Of course I do not believe there is a woman alive and breathing that would want three husbands at once. I personally think we are way to smart to do something that foolish and dumb.
Whoa, think of it. Three men, living under the the same roof with you. Telling you what to do. demanding something, getting mad over nothing. That I believe would be hell on earth. It boggles the mind just to think of it.
Now I have never been a huge Television fan. Oh I've always watched TV but just not one of those who can just sit in front of it forever. I love movies and I love the Reality shows they have now. "Dancing with the stars," and "American Idol". I love "Amazing Race" and even "Kate plus eight". But who in the world thought it would be entertaining to show a man who thinks he is so great he has three wives at once. Boo, Boo, to him.
And what about the women. Women who thinks so little of themselves they live in a marriage with two other women. This man must think he is really something special. I've seen advertisements for the show. He looks like a big guy, beard, long hair, smiling like a idiot. What a jerk.
It would never be acceptable in any religion for a woman to have more than one husband. What gives the right to a man to do this? It just makes me mad. Sister wives indeed. Idiots is more like it. Sister Idiots. The Network that gives me."What not to wear," that I love. Comes up with the idea to have a show about some guy and three stupid women. Together I think they all have seventeen children. I get a headache thinking about it.
Well this has been one of those rants I go into. Sorry about doing that so much. So I will take my picket sign that I have carefully printed, "Down with sister wives." And I will make my way out of Blogland. Many more shows like that on Television and I may move over here for good. But for now I'm outta here.
Have you heard about a new show on,"TLC, called "Sister Wives?" I have not watched it or intend too. But it irks the heck out of me. Do you know how much uproar there would be if there was a show called,"Brother Husbands?" Of course I do not believe there is a woman alive and breathing that would want three husbands at once. I personally think we are way to smart to do something that foolish and dumb.
Whoa, think of it. Three men, living under the the same roof with you. Telling you what to do. demanding something, getting mad over nothing. That I believe would be hell on earth. It boggles the mind just to think of it.
Now I have never been a huge Television fan. Oh I've always watched TV but just not one of those who can just sit in front of it forever. I love movies and I love the Reality shows they have now. "Dancing with the stars," and "American Idol". I love "Amazing Race" and even "Kate plus eight". But who in the world thought it would be entertaining to show a man who thinks he is so great he has three wives at once. Boo, Boo, to him.
And what about the women. Women who thinks so little of themselves they live in a marriage with two other women. This man must think he is really something special. I've seen advertisements for the show. He looks like a big guy, beard, long hair, smiling like a idiot. What a jerk.
It would never be acceptable in any religion for a woman to have more than one husband. What gives the right to a man to do this? It just makes me mad. Sister wives indeed. Idiots is more like it. Sister Idiots. The Network that gives me."What not to wear," that I love. Comes up with the idea to have a show about some guy and three stupid women. Together I think they all have seventeen children. I get a headache thinking about it.
Well this has been one of those rants I go into. Sorry about doing that so much. So I will take my picket sign that I have carefully printed, "Down with sister wives." And I will make my way out of Blogland. Many more shows like that on Television and I may move over here for good. But for now I'm outta here.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
MY DAUGHTER MIGHT TRY TO GET ME OFF FACEBOOK.
Saturday morning waits right outside my door. I have looked out but haven't went out yet. Its still dark. But the air feels wonderful, cool and crisp. Hello Saturday. I'm glad you're here.
Well I may be in trouble with my daughter again. I really do feel bad for my two kids. I am a burden to bear sometimes. I'm so wacky. Sorry kids, its just the luck of the draw. I wrote here all about my wonderful Adirondack chair. And how when my daughter brought it she said she wanted to see no more about that chair on Facebook. I love my chair and have been very good to pretty much stay off Facebook. At least until today.
I talked to my sister this morning. Around five in the morning you can get pretty goofy when the caffeine hasn't really soaked into your brain yet. Well she told me how she wanted to get a new recliner from her kids for Christmas. she has four and her reasoning was they could all go together. Sounded like a plan to me. She asked me if I thought a letter to Santa would help her like it did me. Heck, why not I said. All of her children read Facebook. So we decided I would write every couple of weeks until Christmas to see if Dear Santa would help her. So this morning I kicked it off with the first dear Santa letter. We'll see how it goes.
The only problem here is my daughter. I think it might have been a tad bit embarrassing for her to have her Mother go on Facebook for the world to see and write Santa. And pleading for something to boot. Now I'm on there again but this time for my sister. Sorry Dear heart. But some things just have to done. After all she's my sister. And really old to boot. Much, much older than me.
So I have done it again. Went public with my craziness. Buck up Billie, maybe nobody will read it. But I have promised I would write every two weeks. After all there's only three months till Christmas.So please stay strong. You can always tell people you have no idea who in the world I am.
So I guess on these friendly words I will take my writing paper and make my way back to the real world and out of Blogland one more day. Oh yes, I have my writing paper with me. I need to get another letter ready. But for now, I'm outta here.
Well I may be in trouble with my daughter again. I really do feel bad for my two kids. I am a burden to bear sometimes. I'm so wacky. Sorry kids, its just the luck of the draw. I wrote here all about my wonderful Adirondack chair. And how when my daughter brought it she said she wanted to see no more about that chair on Facebook. I love my chair and have been very good to pretty much stay off Facebook. At least until today.
I talked to my sister this morning. Around five in the morning you can get pretty goofy when the caffeine hasn't really soaked into your brain yet. Well she told me how she wanted to get a new recliner from her kids for Christmas. she has four and her reasoning was they could all go together. Sounded like a plan to me. She asked me if I thought a letter to Santa would help her like it did me. Heck, why not I said. All of her children read Facebook. So we decided I would write every couple of weeks until Christmas to see if Dear Santa would help her. So this morning I kicked it off with the first dear Santa letter. We'll see how it goes.
The only problem here is my daughter. I think it might have been a tad bit embarrassing for her to have her Mother go on Facebook for the world to see and write Santa. And pleading for something to boot. Now I'm on there again but this time for my sister. Sorry Dear heart. But some things just have to done. After all she's my sister. And really old to boot. Much, much older than me.
So I have done it again. Went public with my craziness. Buck up Billie, maybe nobody will read it. But I have promised I would write every two weeks. After all there's only three months till Christmas.So please stay strong. You can always tell people you have no idea who in the world I am.
So I guess on these friendly words I will take my writing paper and make my way back to the real world and out of Blogland one more day. Oh yes, I have my writing paper with me. I need to get another letter ready. But for now, I'm outta here.
Friday, September 24, 2010
THE MAIL BET,GO CHEFS.
Friday is here. It comes with the promise of a weekend, football and maybe some garage sales. Now doesn't that sound fun. The weather has been great. It was suppose to rain last night but if it did I didn't hear it. So bring on the weekend, I am ready.
Talking of football, my sister and The Emperor have this running commentary about the Kansas City Chiefs. He calls them the Chefs. If they win she calls him. He yells about them, makes fun of them. But she is a tried, true fan. They have won their first two season games. My sister is so happy. The Emperor not so much.
After the first game she called him. To rub it in, their glorious victory. He as much as called them a one shot wonder. She said they would win again. So the big bet was made. For one dollar. Sunday the game came, they won. Tuesday morning a dollar left our mailbox in a card. The Emperor does not like to lose. They have another bet, it looks like it might be a running bet for the season.
So I hope the US Mail knows they are being used for illegal betting. She says she has the dollar laid up in case she needs to send it back. I told her to keep a positive attitude. For when you are a true fan you never lose faith. Even if they get on a two year losing streak.
So here's to the Chefs. May they kick Butt this season. Please excuse the bad word, but that's how I see it. Oh I know its Chiefs, but around our house they are known as the Chefs. So cross your fingers and pray they win again this weekend. So The Emperor has to mail another dollar.
I guess its time to leave Blogland one more time. I have my sweatshirt on, KC Chiefs across the front. I have my banner. I am waving it as I leave and I am chanting. "Go Chefs, Go Chefs." But for now, I'm outta here.
Talking of football, my sister and The Emperor have this running commentary about the Kansas City Chiefs. He calls them the Chefs. If they win she calls him. He yells about them, makes fun of them. But she is a tried, true fan. They have won their first two season games. My sister is so happy. The Emperor not so much.
After the first game she called him. To rub it in, their glorious victory. He as much as called them a one shot wonder. She said they would win again. So the big bet was made. For one dollar. Sunday the game came, they won. Tuesday morning a dollar left our mailbox in a card. The Emperor does not like to lose. They have another bet, it looks like it might be a running bet for the season.
So I hope the US Mail knows they are being used for illegal betting. She says she has the dollar laid up in case she needs to send it back. I told her to keep a positive attitude. For when you are a true fan you never lose faith. Even if they get on a two year losing streak.
So here's to the Chefs. May they kick Butt this season. Please excuse the bad word, but that's how I see it. Oh I know its Chiefs, but around our house they are known as the Chefs. So cross your fingers and pray they win again this weekend. So The Emperor has to mail another dollar.
I guess its time to leave Blogland one more time. I have my sweatshirt on, KC Chiefs across the front. I have my banner. I am waving it as I leave and I am chanting. "Go Chefs, Go Chefs." But for now, I'm outta here.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
EVOLUTION DID NOT MAKE MY RED MAPLES
Good morning. It is Thursday. I always liked that word, Thursday. As I sat here at the computer I Goolged it to see where the meaning come from. This is what I came up with.
The word "Thursday" has occurred in various forms in the past in English, some of them apparently originating in Old English and some in Old Norse.
The meaning is "Thor's day". Thor was the mightiest of the gods in Scandinavian mythology. He was the god of thunder. So this is Thors's day. I am in hopes it goes well for us all. In other words I hope we have a thunderous good day. No pun intended.
I sat outside quite abit yesterday. Rocking in my beloved rocker or swinging in my swing. The Emperor was doing plumbing work. When he works on the car or the house it pays me to stay as far from the scene as I can. He does not like to take directions when he is driving. Or have me ask him if he needs something while he is knee deep in a mess. Now in all fairness to the Emperor, I think it is probably a guy thing. Not some trait he process's alone.
Anyway I enjoyed the beautiful day outside, my trees, the birds and squirrels. As I sat looking at the trees I knew one thing for certain. My trees did not come to be by Evolution. Oh they grew from a seed, but they did not involve over ten thousands years ago from a speck of dust. I cannot sit and enjoy nature without realizing a force far greater than Evolution brought all this beauty into play. The mighty force is called God.
Everything about nature cries out there is a greater power than time that brought it all about. Even down to the animal Mothers that have a natural protective instinct about them. Everything revolves around a plan, a cycle. You notice I said revolves, not evolves. In the winter the trees stand bare, dark and almost as if they are dead. Then spring comes, color seems to even come back into the bark and the buds come on to the tree. Then the leaves burst forth, flowers bloom. Summer is upon us quickly with its heat and sunshine. Then Fall when the leaves began to change color and fall from the tree. The trees once again stand bare and vulnerable in the winter cold. A marvelous cycle, a plan.
I love the seasons. I love Fall best of all, but they are all awesome and perfect. And created by a loving hand. When you doubt a great creator go out into the outdoors. Walk by a River, stand under a tree, look at a rose bush. And you will feel the tenderness and beauty that went into the creation. Nature alone can cause me to believe.
My Mother told a story of her sister Mary. They were teaching Evolution in her class at school and the teacher told them they had evolved from Apes. Aunt Mary told the teacher her Ancestors may have swing by their tales but hers hadn't. Maybe Aunt Mary is where I got my smart mouth, you think?
It appears I am in one of my moods, doesn't it? Standing up here on my soap box, talking about creation. But I do not believe in Evolution. I believe in a master plain. One that created the Universe and lovingly guides our life's. Directed by God. I will pick up my box, after I crawl off of it, pick it up and leave Blogland. So for now, I'm outta here.
The word "Thursday" has occurred in various forms in the past in English, some of them apparently originating in Old English and some in Old Norse.
The meaning is "Thor's day". Thor was the mightiest of the gods in Scandinavian mythology. He was the god of thunder. So this is Thors's day. I am in hopes it goes well for us all. In other words I hope we have a thunderous good day. No pun intended.
I sat outside quite abit yesterday. Rocking in my beloved rocker or swinging in my swing. The Emperor was doing plumbing work. When he works on the car or the house it pays me to stay as far from the scene as I can. He does not like to take directions when he is driving. Or have me ask him if he needs something while he is knee deep in a mess. Now in all fairness to the Emperor, I think it is probably a guy thing. Not some trait he process's alone.
Anyway I enjoyed the beautiful day outside, my trees, the birds and squirrels. As I sat looking at the trees I knew one thing for certain. My trees did not come to be by Evolution. Oh they grew from a seed, but they did not involve over ten thousands years ago from a speck of dust. I cannot sit and enjoy nature without realizing a force far greater than Evolution brought all this beauty into play. The mighty force is called God.
Everything about nature cries out there is a greater power than time that brought it all about. Even down to the animal Mothers that have a natural protective instinct about them. Everything revolves around a plan, a cycle. You notice I said revolves, not evolves. In the winter the trees stand bare, dark and almost as if they are dead. Then spring comes, color seems to even come back into the bark and the buds come on to the tree. Then the leaves burst forth, flowers bloom. Summer is upon us quickly with its heat and sunshine. Then Fall when the leaves began to change color and fall from the tree. The trees once again stand bare and vulnerable in the winter cold. A marvelous cycle, a plan.
I love the seasons. I love Fall best of all, but they are all awesome and perfect. And created by a loving hand. When you doubt a great creator go out into the outdoors. Walk by a River, stand under a tree, look at a rose bush. And you will feel the tenderness and beauty that went into the creation. Nature alone can cause me to believe.
My Mother told a story of her sister Mary. They were teaching Evolution in her class at school and the teacher told them they had evolved from Apes. Aunt Mary told the teacher her Ancestors may have swing by their tales but hers hadn't. Maybe Aunt Mary is where I got my smart mouth, you think?
It appears I am in one of my moods, doesn't it? Standing up here on my soap box, talking about creation. But I do not believe in Evolution. I believe in a master plain. One that created the Universe and lovingly guides our life's. Directed by God. I will pick up my box, after I crawl off of it, pick it up and leave Blogland. So for now, I'm outta here.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
THE EMPEROR SAYS I HAVE A SMART MOUTH.
Wednesday morning is here, mid-week. The dogs are outside, wandering around in the darkness. I have not had any coffee, so my brain sits dormant waiting for its caffine rush. My prayer is the coffee hurrys and the dogs keep silent. Let the day began.
The woman next door, you know the one who is sreading her man's ashes to the winds, has a very rough mouth. Now I have been known to say a few bad words myself. But this woman uses God's name in vain at six in the morning and she isn't praying either. I go out early and sit in the swing, drinking my coffee. Yesterday morning by six I could hear her, everything dammed from her dogs to Dallas her granson. She tosses God and his son's name around at a deep throaty yell constatenly. I keep expecting to hear God say, "Yes," at any moment. I hate to hear God's name taken in vain. I have broke a few commanments in my day but not that one. The Emperor and I go round and round about this. There is thousdands of words you can say if you must damm someone or something , leave God out of it.
Around nine The Emperor asked if I wanted to sit in the yard and have coffee. Well yes of course, thats one of my favorite things to do, sitting in the yard. We are having coffee, enjoying the morning. The lady starts up, her voice carrying loud and clear. The Emperor looks that way. He was very uncomplementry about the woman and her language. I looked at him. "Well," I said. "I thought you two were probably soulmates as you sound just alike." He looked at me. "Has anyone told you that you have a smart mouth?" Yes come to think of it they have.
I have went to college. On and off for years. Smart mouth was not my Major. Maybe I was just born with it, I'm not sure. I am prone to think being married for years might be more the cause. However I got this way, I do realize I have one, a smart mouth that is.
I have written a couple of times lately that I am working on this, "Silence is golden theory." Honestly I do think I am doing better but sometimes I swear its like my mouth has devoloped a mind of its on. It opens, words come out, oops I've done it again. Irratated the Emperor. I am really quite good at doing that. The poor Emperor, a rough and tough guy, who is married to the mouth of the South. Who regardless of how many times he says, "Off with her head," does not shut up. Oh well, I am just his cross to bear. Smart mouth and all.
He is from that old school of thought. Women like children are meant to be seen not heard. Hmmm, good luck to him on getting that to happen. Its about time though for me and my smart mouth to get the heck out of Blogland. I might wear a "Silence is golden," sign around my neck today. That way if I don't stay silent, people will at least know I think its a good idea. Right this moment I'm walking, being silent as I walk. And for now I'm outta here.
The woman next door, you know the one who is sreading her man's ashes to the winds, has a very rough mouth. Now I have been known to say a few bad words myself. But this woman uses God's name in vain at six in the morning and she isn't praying either. I go out early and sit in the swing, drinking my coffee. Yesterday morning by six I could hear her, everything dammed from her dogs to Dallas her granson. She tosses God and his son's name around at a deep throaty yell constatenly. I keep expecting to hear God say, "Yes," at any moment. I hate to hear God's name taken in vain. I have broke a few commanments in my day but not that one. The Emperor and I go round and round about this. There is thousdands of words you can say if you must damm someone or something , leave God out of it.
Around nine The Emperor asked if I wanted to sit in the yard and have coffee. Well yes of course, thats one of my favorite things to do, sitting in the yard. We are having coffee, enjoying the morning. The lady starts up, her voice carrying loud and clear. The Emperor looks that way. He was very uncomplementry about the woman and her language. I looked at him. "Well," I said. "I thought you two were probably soulmates as you sound just alike." He looked at me. "Has anyone told you that you have a smart mouth?" Yes come to think of it they have.
I have went to college. On and off for years. Smart mouth was not my Major. Maybe I was just born with it, I'm not sure. I am prone to think being married for years might be more the cause. However I got this way, I do realize I have one, a smart mouth that is.
I have written a couple of times lately that I am working on this, "Silence is golden theory." Honestly I do think I am doing better but sometimes I swear its like my mouth has devoloped a mind of its on. It opens, words come out, oops I've done it again. Irratated the Emperor. I am really quite good at doing that. The poor Emperor, a rough and tough guy, who is married to the mouth of the South. Who regardless of how many times he says, "Off with her head," does not shut up. Oh well, I am just his cross to bear. Smart mouth and all.
He is from that old school of thought. Women like children are meant to be seen not heard. Hmmm, good luck to him on getting that to happen. Its about time though for me and my smart mouth to get the heck out of Blogland. I might wear a "Silence is golden," sign around my neck today. That way if I don't stay silent, people will at least know I think its a good idea. Right this moment I'm walking, being silent as I walk. And for now I'm outta here.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
WELCOME HOME TO THE 203RD BATTALION
Tuesday morning lies outside my front door. The daylight not yet arriving but it waits just behind the still dark sky. I am hopeful for a beautiful day as the weather has been gorgeous. These prefall days are wonderful. It still is warm in the afternoons but not the stifling heat we experienced for weeks. Fall is coming soon with its beautiful colors that will paint the trees. I am ready and waiting.
I feel like I should be out in the front yard waving a flag, shouting welcome home to our areas own 203rd Battalion. Two of our people were killed while they were gone. Two young lives who didn't return to a hero's welcome. There is nothing sensible or good about war. Has never been or will ever be.
When this war started several years ago we had not lived in this house very long. The neighbors had not yet gotten use to my strangeness. Not that they have after five years. Anyway I went out with a chair and a bolt of yellow ribbon. I reached as high as I could standing on the chair and tied yellow ribbons on both trees. My beloved Saul and Sarah. Then I tied ribbons all along the front fence. It seemed such a small thing to do for our young men and women who went away into a foreign land and endured the horrors of war. Now they are slowly coming back home. Remnants of the ribbons still cling to the branches. Faded with from sun and rain. Now we all will expect them to pick up where they left off. Back before they saw their friends die and had to be responsible for taking an others life in return.
I wonder how many of us really gave them much thought after the first few months. We gripe about our leadership, we gripe about our taxes. We do this as young men and women struggled in the heat, amidst fire bombs, hatred and loneliness. Shame on us all. I know nobody in the 203rd Battalion will read this. But I still want to say Thank-you, each and everyone. And as you go about trying to put your life back together please know that you were standing up for our country and the freedom we enjoy. May God make this transition easy for each of you. May you be welcomed back as you should be, as hero's.
Well I got that off my chest.. Sometimes its handy to have this Blog. Nobody can shut me up when I voice my opinion. I am smiling. I am sure there are those who would if they could.. Once again Thanks 203rd. I will take my flag I proudly wave for I have that right here in our great country. And I will stroll causally out of Blogland. Hooray for the Red, White and Blue. But for now, I'm outta here.
I feel like I should be out in the front yard waving a flag, shouting welcome home to our areas own 203rd Battalion. Two of our people were killed while they were gone. Two young lives who didn't return to a hero's welcome. There is nothing sensible or good about war. Has never been or will ever be.
When this war started several years ago we had not lived in this house very long. The neighbors had not yet gotten use to my strangeness. Not that they have after five years. Anyway I went out with a chair and a bolt of yellow ribbon. I reached as high as I could standing on the chair and tied yellow ribbons on both trees. My beloved Saul and Sarah. Then I tied ribbons all along the front fence. It seemed such a small thing to do for our young men and women who went away into a foreign land and endured the horrors of war. Now they are slowly coming back home. Remnants of the ribbons still cling to the branches. Faded with from sun and rain. Now we all will expect them to pick up where they left off. Back before they saw their friends die and had to be responsible for taking an others life in return.
I wonder how many of us really gave them much thought after the first few months. We gripe about our leadership, we gripe about our taxes. We do this as young men and women struggled in the heat, amidst fire bombs, hatred and loneliness. Shame on us all. I know nobody in the 203rd Battalion will read this. But I still want to say Thank-you, each and everyone. And as you go about trying to put your life back together please know that you were standing up for our country and the freedom we enjoy. May God make this transition easy for each of you. May you be welcomed back as you should be, as hero's.
Well I got that off my chest.. Sometimes its handy to have this Blog. Nobody can shut me up when I voice my opinion. I am smiling. I am sure there are those who would if they could.. Once again Thanks 203rd. I will take my flag I proudly wave for I have that right here in our great country. And I will stroll causally out of Blogland. Hooray for the Red, White and Blue. But for now, I'm outta here.
Monday, September 20, 2010
NOT HAVING A CAR IS ROUGH. BEING A CHILD WITH CANCER IS MUCH ROUGHER. COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS.
Hey, its Monday morning. A new week, all crisp and shiny. I sure am in hopes I Don't goof it up too bad. My friend Sondra's Birthday is today. She has been the only woman I know over forty that was excited about getting a year older. I won't say her age, but she now is able to draw Medicare. you can figure that one out yourself.
I added her picture on my Blog today. I didn't ask. I sure am in hopes she doesn't quit talking to me again over it. But Happy Birthday Sondra. You're looking good and going strong. I think it comes from the fact you're onery.
Another friend called me yesterday. She was very upset because her car had gave up the ghost. She stalled out on 32nd street and had to call a tow truck to pull it to her house. She cried, she ranted, she bemoaned her fate and wondered why God was picking on her. I tried to tell her he wasn't, that its called life. And at any given moment someone is getting kicked in the Butt. So to speak. And if you haven't had this happen lately, believe me you will before long. Its called "Murphy's Law." When something can go wrong it will.
The fact is when this comes along what is needed is prespective. Trying to get a hold on prespective is not easy when you feel the bottom has dropped out. Its not easy then to think of the starving children in Asia but it pays to try and do it anyway.
When I had to quit driving, I was mad for about a year. Woe is me, I thought. Why me? I cried. Why I had been singled out to be the recepient of bad luck. Its life Billye, suck it up and suck it in. I was tempted while she was crying and carrying on to say at least when she gets her car fixed or gets another. She will be able to drive again. Thank-goodness I didn't. I really am trying to use this, "Silence is golden" theme. But I wanted too.
But I had to do the same myself. I wallowed in pity for months then I realized it was doing me no good. The world was still rolling along without me. When I have these poor Me days now. I dance around the house and say. "Thank-you God," I still have my legs. I don't see dust as well, so thats a good excuse for not doing so much housework. I believe what you need to do is, "Count your blessings." The old song goes, "Name them one by one." I so wanted to tell her to buck up and quit whining. But as I said I didn't. A person has to count their own blessings and I guess sometimes its just hard to see them to count.
Being withoput a car is rough. Not being able to drive is rough. being a child and having cancer is rougher. "Count your Blessings, Name them one by one." So I will start counting my blessings as I stroll one more time out of Blogland. "Thank-you God for making me so sweet." Now thats really a blessing for everyone isn't it? I'm laughing as I walk. But for now, I'm outta here.
I added her picture on my Blog today. I didn't ask. I sure am in hopes she doesn't quit talking to me again over it. But Happy Birthday Sondra. You're looking good and going strong. I think it comes from the fact you're onery.
Another friend called me yesterday. She was very upset because her car had gave up the ghost. She stalled out on 32nd street and had to call a tow truck to pull it to her house. She cried, she ranted, she bemoaned her fate and wondered why God was picking on her. I tried to tell her he wasn't, that its called life. And at any given moment someone is getting kicked in the Butt. So to speak. And if you haven't had this happen lately, believe me you will before long. Its called "Murphy's Law." When something can go wrong it will.
The fact is when this comes along what is needed is prespective. Trying to get a hold on prespective is not easy when you feel the bottom has dropped out. Its not easy then to think of the starving children in Asia but it pays to try and do it anyway.
When I had to quit driving, I was mad for about a year. Woe is me, I thought. Why me? I cried. Why I had been singled out to be the recepient of bad luck. Its life Billye, suck it up and suck it in. I was tempted while she was crying and carrying on to say at least when she gets her car fixed or gets another. She will be able to drive again. Thank-goodness I didn't. I really am trying to use this, "Silence is golden" theme. But I wanted too.
But I had to do the same myself. I wallowed in pity for months then I realized it was doing me no good. The world was still rolling along without me. When I have these poor Me days now. I dance around the house and say. "Thank-you God," I still have my legs. I don't see dust as well, so thats a good excuse for not doing so much housework. I believe what you need to do is, "Count your blessings." The old song goes, "Name them one by one." I so wanted to tell her to buck up and quit whining. But as I said I didn't. A person has to count their own blessings and I guess sometimes its just hard to see them to count.
Being withoput a car is rough. Not being able to drive is rough. being a child and having cancer is rougher. "Count your Blessings, Name them one by one." So I will start counting my blessings as I stroll one more time out of Blogland. "Thank-you God for making me so sweet." Now thats really a blessing for everyone isn't it? I'm laughing as I walk. But for now, I'm outta here.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
LEXICOGRAPHY
It is Sunday morning. Darkness still surrounding the house I was by five o:clock chasing "I" around the yard. The newspaper delivery upset her. So in turn I am sure she upset the neighbors as she zipped around the yard looking for intruders, barking at the top of her lungs. Of course the delivery people was across the street, but that fact irritated her too. She would like nobody to come near the house, especially in the dark.
U watched a movie last night where the the girl, played by Jennifer Aniston went around writing strange words on walls. Later it showed someone looking up the definition of a person who says and writes strange words. I could not see to read along with them. It drove me crazy. I went to bed thinking about it, wondering what the word was. I awoke in the night thinking about it. I got up at 4:30 and googled it. The word is called lexicography.
She wrote many of these words behind pictures at fancy hotels. She loved words that were different and strange.I understand this as being people who study these new words, put them to together and also make words for dictionary's.
Now how cool is that? Being able to study and make new words. Also to make a dictionary. I would like to get into that field. I could make a whole new language up and use it. Language according to Billye it might be called. Doesn't that have a zing to it?
Words have always fascinated me. Maybe that's why I always loved to write. For there has always been so many words captured in my head. But I really have no aptitude for knowing strange and exotic words. I must try to learn some. Then maybe I will scoot around to fancy places, lifting pictures from the wall by a corner and scribbling the word safely away. Og course anyone seeing the word would have to find a dictionary to learn the meaning. But we all could get much smarter that way.
Well I have sort of went off the deep edge this morning. Rambling on about a topic that probably is no interest to anyone. But I have been thinking about it for the last ten hours and needed to get it off my chest. So a Blog I find can be a handy thing to have. I will try tomorrow to be a little more sane. Remember I said try. But for now I will tote my bag of words over my shoulder and stroll out of Blogland. So I'm outta here for today. The definition of Lexicography is as follows.
A lexicographer is concerned with what words are, what they mean, how the vocabulary of a language is structured, how speakers of the language use and understand the words, how the words evolved, and what relationships exist between words. This is the information a lexicographer compiles when creating a dictionary.
Theoretical lexicography is the scholarly discipline of analyzing and describing the semantic, syntagmatic and paradigmatic relationships within the lexicon (vocabulary) of a language, developing theories of dictionary components and structures linking the data in dictionaries, the needs for information by users in specific types of situation, and how users may best access the data incorporated in printed and electronic dictionaries. This is sometimes referred to as 'metalexicography'.
A person devoted to lexicography is called a lexicographer.
U watched a movie last night where the the girl, played by Jennifer Aniston went around writing strange words on walls. Later it showed someone looking up the definition of a person who says and writes strange words. I could not see to read along with them. It drove me crazy. I went to bed thinking about it, wondering what the word was. I awoke in the night thinking about it. I got up at 4:30 and googled it. The word is called lexicography.
She wrote many of these words behind pictures at fancy hotels. She loved words that were different and strange.I understand this as being people who study these new words, put them to together and also make words for dictionary's.
Now how cool is that? Being able to study and make new words. Also to make a dictionary. I would like to get into that field. I could make a whole new language up and use it. Language according to Billye it might be called. Doesn't that have a zing to it?
Words have always fascinated me. Maybe that's why I always loved to write. For there has always been so many words captured in my head. But I really have no aptitude for knowing strange and exotic words. I must try to learn some. Then maybe I will scoot around to fancy places, lifting pictures from the wall by a corner and scribbling the word safely away. Og course anyone seeing the word would have to find a dictionary to learn the meaning. But we all could get much smarter that way.
Well I have sort of went off the deep edge this morning. Rambling on about a topic that probably is no interest to anyone. But I have been thinking about it for the last ten hours and needed to get it off my chest. So a Blog I find can be a handy thing to have. I will try tomorrow to be a little more sane. Remember I said try. But for now I will tote my bag of words over my shoulder and stroll out of Blogland. So I'm outta here for today. The definition of Lexicography is as follows.
A lexicographer is concerned with what words are, what they mean, how the vocabulary of a language is structured, how speakers of the language use and understand the words, how the words evolved, and what relationships exist between words. This is the information a lexicographer compiles when creating a dictionary.
Theoretical lexicography is the scholarly discipline of analyzing and describing the semantic, syntagmatic and paradigmatic relationships within the lexicon (vocabulary) of a language, developing theories of dictionary components and structures linking the data in dictionaries, the needs for information by users in specific types of situation, and how users may best access the data incorporated in printed and electronic dictionaries. This is sometimes referred to as 'metalexicography'.
A person devoted to lexicography is called a lexicographer.
Friday, September 17, 2010
MIRACLES STILL HAPPEN
Wake up world the weekend is here. It is not light outside yet, and still very quiet. I think even the early birds know its the weekend as I have not heard one peep from any of them yet.
I enter Blogland this morning very tentivly, looking around as I venture in with baby steps. For you see this is one of those mornings when I have nothing to say at all. Don't holler, I know that we all know I always have something to say. Its just I have no clear cut idea on what I should write.
I wrote yesterday about praying for my family and how sometimes only silence comes back to mock me. But sometimes answers to prayers can come quickly. I was talking to my sister yesterday afternoon while I sat in the swing. I told her I was just sitting outside as I hated to go into the house for I knew the Emperor was going to yell at me about something. I will pray she said that he will not holler. "Listen," I told her, "Maybe you better just pray I will keep my mouth shut." Though both of them seem a pretty big miracle to ask for. The Emperor and I neither one are known for being quiet.
Finally I went in and sure enough. He started on just the subject I knew he would. Then the miracle happened. So I know for sure they now they still do. I didn't say anything back. Not nary a word. It surprised me. I think it surprised him even more. He was confused. The Emperor doesn't get confused too often. He tried harder. Saying the words that usually can instantly push my buttons. I never said anything. The most surprising was that I didn't want too. There was none of the angry words I shoot back at hurt feelings. A miracle had occured. I kept my mouth shut. I think I heard shouting in heaven.
Now I'm not going to say this prayer of my sister's will always work. The prayer for me to keep my mouth shut. Miracles might not be able to be happen everyday. But for yesterday it worked. And then the most amazing thing of all happened. The Emperor ran out of steam pretty fast, when I did not heat the exchange up with my angry retorts. Maybe silence is golden after all.
So you might take my little experoence into use sometime. If all the forces seem to be gathering against you and angry words surround you. Just be quiet, very quiet. The results were amazing. Oh yes you might want to ask my sister to pray for you too. It seems to work. But for now I will slowly edge back out of Blogland. The words I am leaving behind are not great or worthy of repeating. But for today its all I have, so for now I'm outta here.
I enter Blogland this morning very tentivly, looking around as I venture in with baby steps. For you see this is one of those mornings when I have nothing to say at all. Don't holler, I know that we all know I always have something to say. Its just I have no clear cut idea on what I should write.
I wrote yesterday about praying for my family and how sometimes only silence comes back to mock me. But sometimes answers to prayers can come quickly. I was talking to my sister yesterday afternoon while I sat in the swing. I told her I was just sitting outside as I hated to go into the house for I knew the Emperor was going to yell at me about something. I will pray she said that he will not holler. "Listen," I told her, "Maybe you better just pray I will keep my mouth shut." Though both of them seem a pretty big miracle to ask for. The Emperor and I neither one are known for being quiet.
Finally I went in and sure enough. He started on just the subject I knew he would. Then the miracle happened. So I know for sure they now they still do. I didn't say anything back. Not nary a word. It surprised me. I think it surprised him even more. He was confused. The Emperor doesn't get confused too often. He tried harder. Saying the words that usually can instantly push my buttons. I never said anything. The most surprising was that I didn't want too. There was none of the angry words I shoot back at hurt feelings. A miracle had occured. I kept my mouth shut. I think I heard shouting in heaven.
Now I'm not going to say this prayer of my sister's will always work. The prayer for me to keep my mouth shut. Miracles might not be able to be happen everyday. But for yesterday it worked. And then the most amazing thing of all happened. The Emperor ran out of steam pretty fast, when I did not heat the exchange up with my angry retorts. Maybe silence is golden after all.
So you might take my little experoence into use sometime. If all the forces seem to be gathering against you and angry words surround you. Just be quiet, very quiet. The results were amazing. Oh yes you might want to ask my sister to pray for you too. It seems to work. But for now I will slowly edge back out of Blogland. The words I am leaving behind are not great or worthy of repeating. But for today its all I have, so for now I'm outta here.
i WOULD LIKE TO KIDNAP THEM ALL.
Friday has arrived. The weekend with its promise for those that work, a break from the daily grind. I wish I had a job to have a break from. I suppose I could do a little more work around the house but that does not sound like near as much fun as having a job again and getting paid. When I checked my email this morning early I found a short note from my little granddaughter-in-law. It made me smile from ear to ear. Bless her heart, she gets me. I wanted to include it in my Blog for today. Hope you don't mind Brandy but here it is.
My Grandma Billye,she is a gypsy queen,she would say so herself.The life she's lived,the things that she's seen. My grandma Billye,she is strong,angry,and somewhat black,quick as a whip and sharp as a tack. My grandma Billye is both things you see,but most of all has always been a friend to me. Thank-you Brandy for the wonderful words. I am so happy someone can see the Black part of me.
Back when I was young I wanted many children. Life didn't turn out that way. I had two and they were years apart. But as I grow older and realize how much children, grandchildern and so forth tug on your heart strings. I am glad I only had two. My Mother use to say,"When they are little they walk on your feet, when their grown they walk on your Heart. Its not that they walk on my heart but the worry that comes with loving children can be very painful. Its the same for the Grandchildren and Great-grandchildren. The worry never stops. You are connected.
I may not see or talk to them much but just knowing they are there, living their life's, for the most part being happy, makes me happy. But then let a big problem come along and it seems its more at times than this old heart can take. I want to grab them up, which of course would not be easy as they are grown. And just run, run as hard and as fast as I can. So nothing bad can happen to them or affect them wrong in anyway.
I have prayed so much this last year, "I know God thinks why doesn't she just shut up?" Well God you should know by now that just isn't going to happen. I holler,"Hey God just answer this situation the way I want and I will shut up. Only silence comes back to me, and I am desolate. My heart is heavy. I want so much to make the ones I love safe and protected. I realize more and more as the years roll by that isn't the way life works.
I wish I could win the Power Ball, buy a Island and kidnap all my family and move them there. Where all would be safe and secure. I am very sure they would not want to l,live on an Island with me, thats why I used the word kidnap. But of course we cannot live our loved ones life, or put them in a bubble. If only we could.
So I pray, long prayers, short ones. I plead, bargain and all those things we do when desperation knocks on our door. If I could, would I choose not to have my children, grandchildren and the greatgrands. Just so I could be worry free. Of course not. I know the worry goes along with the loving. I will never win Mother of the year. But in my heart beats a love so strong for them all. I want them happy, I want them safe from the world and the pain that can reach out in a instance.
So with these heavy words. I make my journey back to the edge of Blogland. Leaving the vast cyberspace behind one more day. Take care if you should read these words. And I hope to see you here again. But for now I'm outta here.
My Grandma Billye,she is a gypsy queen,she would say so herself.The life she's lived,the things that she's seen. My grandma Billye,she is strong,angry,and somewhat black,quick as a whip and sharp as a tack. My grandma Billye is both things you see,but most of all has always been a friend to me. Thank-you Brandy for the wonderful words. I am so happy someone can see the Black part of me.
Back when I was young I wanted many children. Life didn't turn out that way. I had two and they were years apart. But as I grow older and realize how much children, grandchildern and so forth tug on your heart strings. I am glad I only had two. My Mother use to say,"When they are little they walk on your feet, when their grown they walk on your Heart. Its not that they walk on my heart but the worry that comes with loving children can be very painful. Its the same for the Grandchildren and Great-grandchildren. The worry never stops. You are connected.
I may not see or talk to them much but just knowing they are there, living their life's, for the most part being happy, makes me happy. But then let a big problem come along and it seems its more at times than this old heart can take. I want to grab them up, which of course would not be easy as they are grown. And just run, run as hard and as fast as I can. So nothing bad can happen to them or affect them wrong in anyway.
I have prayed so much this last year, "I know God thinks why doesn't she just shut up?" Well God you should know by now that just isn't going to happen. I holler,"Hey God just answer this situation the way I want and I will shut up. Only silence comes back to me, and I am desolate. My heart is heavy. I want so much to make the ones I love safe and protected. I realize more and more as the years roll by that isn't the way life works.
I wish I could win the Power Ball, buy a Island and kidnap all my family and move them there. Where all would be safe and secure. I am very sure they would not want to l,live on an Island with me, thats why I used the word kidnap. But of course we cannot live our loved ones life, or put them in a bubble. If only we could.
So I pray, long prayers, short ones. I plead, bargain and all those things we do when desperation knocks on our door. If I could, would I choose not to have my children, grandchildren and the greatgrands. Just so I could be worry free. Of course not. I know the worry goes along with the loving. I will never win Mother of the year. But in my heart beats a love so strong for them all. I want them happy, I want them safe from the world and the pain that can reach out in a instance.
So with these heavy words. I make my journey back to the edge of Blogland. Leaving the vast cyberspace behind one more day. Take care if you should read these words. And I hope to see you here again. But for now I'm outta here.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
WAYNE SEEMS TO BE EVERYWHERE, NOW THAT HE'S GONE.
Thursday morning has arrived and everything seems to be still here. When I went to bed about 10:15 the wind was blowing and storm warning's was hitting the airways. I never get too upset at the warnings. I always think if its going to get you it will. Thank goodness it didn't.
I wrote the other day how The Emperor calls the neighbors The Clampetts. Part of that comes from within days of their moving in they had buried two dogs in the backyard. As soon as we had heard of Wayne's passing The Emperor said, "I hope they don't try to bury him in the backyard. Well they haven't tried that with his ashes yet. But believe me, I think they may be everywhere else.
The Emperor and I were sitting in the front yard and Betty the lady pulled up with one of the grandkids. I walked over to the fence. I asked her how she was doing. We chatted for a few minutes. Then she told how he loved whiskey and how her and the eighteen year old grandson had put some of his ashes in a jar, poured whiskey over them. They drove out in the country where he use to hunt and scattered his ashes. Well not to bad I thought. People do stuff like that all the time. Scatter their loved ones ashes to the wind. But usually not soaked in whiskey.
Then she went on. They also had put ashes in a couple of bottles of whiskey.. To sit around the house. Well okay, I guess keeping old Wayne pretty saturated seems to be the goal here.
Then the bomber. Very earnestly she told me how she had went and bought several of the small pill boxes on key chains. They are putting his ashes in these pill boxes so everyone can have some of him to carry around. Even the small children. Wayne's theme song cannot be, "Don't get around much anymore. Wayne is going to be literally almost everywhere/
In horror I could see in my minds eye one of the three year old twins opening the box, sticking in their finger and taking a taste. UGGG!!!!!!!!! I guess we all have some strange ideas. I for one have never heard of anyone being put in pill boxes but oh well. The Emperor was sitting in a chair under the trees, listening to our conversation. I came back and sat down. We looked at each other, neither of us saying a word. Then he spoke, "See I told you, The Clampetts. I could do nothing but nod agreement. For once in my life I was speechless..
So Wayne is probably getting around more these days than he had been. But if you run across these people, don't drink anything they might offer. And for goodness sake don't take a pill. You might be taking Wayne. And on these tasteless words I will float on the wind and leave Blogland one more time. For now, I'm outta here.
I wrote the other day how The Emperor calls the neighbors The Clampetts. Part of that comes from within days of their moving in they had buried two dogs in the backyard. As soon as we had heard of Wayne's passing The Emperor said, "I hope they don't try to bury him in the backyard. Well they haven't tried that with his ashes yet. But believe me, I think they may be everywhere else.
The Emperor and I were sitting in the front yard and Betty the lady pulled up with one of the grandkids. I walked over to the fence. I asked her how she was doing. We chatted for a few minutes. Then she told how he loved whiskey and how her and the eighteen year old grandson had put some of his ashes in a jar, poured whiskey over them. They drove out in the country where he use to hunt and scattered his ashes. Well not to bad I thought. People do stuff like that all the time. Scatter their loved ones ashes to the wind. But usually not soaked in whiskey.
Then she went on. They also had put ashes in a couple of bottles of whiskey.. To sit around the house. Well okay, I guess keeping old Wayne pretty saturated seems to be the goal here.
Then the bomber. Very earnestly she told me how she had went and bought several of the small pill boxes on key chains. They are putting his ashes in these pill boxes so everyone can have some of him to carry around. Even the small children. Wayne's theme song cannot be, "Don't get around much anymore. Wayne is going to be literally almost everywhere/
In horror I could see in my minds eye one of the three year old twins opening the box, sticking in their finger and taking a taste. UGGG!!!!!!!!! I guess we all have some strange ideas. I for one have never heard of anyone being put in pill boxes but oh well. The Emperor was sitting in a chair under the trees, listening to our conversation. I came back and sat down. We looked at each other, neither of us saying a word. Then he spoke, "See I told you, The Clampetts. I could do nothing but nod agreement. For once in my life I was speechless..
So Wayne is probably getting around more these days than he had been. But if you run across these people, don't drink anything they might offer. And for goodness sake don't take a pill. You might be taking Wayne. And on these tasteless words I will float on the wind and leave Blogland one more time. For now, I'm outta here.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
WAS IT JACKIE OR MARIA?
it is Wednesday morning. And it is not raining, but the breeze that is blowing through the front screen has a certain dampness to it. I am opting for a beautiful pre-Fall day. So here's hoping.
Has anybody out there watched America's Got Talent this season? That is if there is anybody out there. I always want to yell yoo Hoo to see if anyone answers back. Well if you have watched it you will remember the little girl Jackie Evancho. She is ten and has a voice that will knock the socks right off you. No kidding. Last night the final four appeared and tonight the winner will be announced. I hope she wins, but whether she does or not you will hear of her in years to come. Its almost scary the way this full blown operatic voice comes out of her. It doesn't seem possible. I read where her Mother had said several years ago the family had watched "Fathom of the Opera," and a few days later she heard Opera singing coming from within the house. She looked and it was her small child, Singing Opera. And if you have ever heard Opera then you know it isn't very often sang in English. Tell me now how does a small child start singing Opera and has never been taught how or the words. Maybe reincarnation? Just maybe so.
There was a Greek Opera singer, world renowned. They say she was probably the best ever, Maria Callas. She was born 1923 and died in 1977. Do you think maybe the powers that be thought that her voice was to great a talent to be lost forever So they let her soul rest for years, then sent her back to sing again.
Now don't call the folks at The Shady Tree Rest Home yet. Just hear me out. Okay? There has to be a answer to why this child can sing like she does. Not a child's voice but an Adults and knows Opera. Why couldn't Maria come back? To do what she does best, and that is sing. I have always believed the Bible says when we die the soul goes back to its maker. But no where does it say they couldn't come back. It could have happened just that way. Think about it.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I think I have written this here before, I think I was probably a Gypsy. I'd like to think I was anyway. But if there is Reincarnation in some instances why not Maria Callas? Last night Jackie sang for her final song, "Ava Marie." I love that song. She sang it flawless. it was as if a small blond Angel was standing there in the spotlight. Awesome is the only word I know to describe her. The results will be tonight. Who knows what America will decide. But with this child's performance people have been privileged to see what true God given talent is.
So did we hear Jackie sing or as I in my strange crazy mind thinks could be Maria Callas? oh yes if you were someone else in a previous life, who would you have been? I still hold strong to the idea I was a gypsy. But I sure wish I could have brought the thick dark hair over into this life. I bet that Gypsy I use to be is rolling in her grave at the hair she has this time. oh well, food for thought. But for now I'm outta here. Oh yes a small Bio on Maria Callas follows.
Maria Callas (Greek: Μαρία Κάλλας) (December 2, 1923 – September 16, 1977) was an American-born Greek soprano and one of the most renowned opera singers of the 20th century. She combined an impressive bel canto technique, a wide-ranging voice, and great dramatic gifts. An extremely versatile singer, her repertoire ranged from classical opera seria to the bel canto operas of Donizetti, Bellini and Rossini; further, to the works of Verdi and Puccini; and, in her early career, to the music dramas of Wagner. Her remarkable musical and dramatic talents led to her being hailed as La Divina.
Born in New York City and raised by an overbearing mother, she received her musical education in Greece and established her career in Italy. Forced to deal with the exigencies of wartime poverty and with myopia that left her nearly blind on stage, she endured struggles and scandal over the course of her career. She turned herself from a heavy woman into a svelte and glamorous one after a mid-career weight loss, which might have contributed to her vocal decline and the premature end of her career. The press exulted in publicizing Callas's allegedly temperamental behavior, her supposed rivalry with Renata Tebaldi, and her love affair with Aristotle Onassis. Her dramatic life and personal tragedy have often overshadowed Callas the artist in the popular press. However, her artistic achievements were such that Leonard Bernstein called her "The Bible of opera",[1] and her influence so enduring that, in 2006, Opera News wrote of her: "Nearly thirty years after her death, she's still the definition of the diva as artist—and still one of classical music's best-selling vocalists."[
Has anybody out there watched America's Got Talent this season? That is if there is anybody out there. I always want to yell yoo Hoo to see if anyone answers back. Well if you have watched it you will remember the little girl Jackie Evancho. She is ten and has a voice that will knock the socks right off you. No kidding. Last night the final four appeared and tonight the winner will be announced. I hope she wins, but whether she does or not you will hear of her in years to come. Its almost scary the way this full blown operatic voice comes out of her. It doesn't seem possible. I read where her Mother had said several years ago the family had watched "Fathom of the Opera," and a few days later she heard Opera singing coming from within the house. She looked and it was her small child, Singing Opera. And if you have ever heard Opera then you know it isn't very often sang in English. Tell me now how does a small child start singing Opera and has never been taught how or the words. Maybe reincarnation? Just maybe so.
There was a Greek Opera singer, world renowned. They say she was probably the best ever, Maria Callas. She was born 1923 and died in 1977. Do you think maybe the powers that be thought that her voice was to great a talent to be lost forever So they let her soul rest for years, then sent her back to sing again.
Now don't call the folks at The Shady Tree Rest Home yet. Just hear me out. Okay? There has to be a answer to why this child can sing like she does. Not a child's voice but an Adults and knows Opera. Why couldn't Maria come back? To do what she does best, and that is sing. I have always believed the Bible says when we die the soul goes back to its maker. But no where does it say they couldn't come back. It could have happened just that way. Think about it.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I think I have written this here before, I think I was probably a Gypsy. I'd like to think I was anyway. But if there is Reincarnation in some instances why not Maria Callas? Last night Jackie sang for her final song, "Ava Marie." I love that song. She sang it flawless. it was as if a small blond Angel was standing there in the spotlight. Awesome is the only word I know to describe her. The results will be tonight. Who knows what America will decide. But with this child's performance people have been privileged to see what true God given talent is.
So did we hear Jackie sing or as I in my strange crazy mind thinks could be Maria Callas? oh yes if you were someone else in a previous life, who would you have been? I still hold strong to the idea I was a gypsy. But I sure wish I could have brought the thick dark hair over into this life. I bet that Gypsy I use to be is rolling in her grave at the hair she has this time. oh well, food for thought. But for now I'm outta here. Oh yes a small Bio on Maria Callas follows.
Maria Callas (Greek: Μαρία Κάλλας) (December 2, 1923 – September 16, 1977) was an American-born Greek soprano and one of the most renowned opera singers of the 20th century. She combined an impressive bel canto technique, a wide-ranging voice, and great dramatic gifts. An extremely versatile singer, her repertoire ranged from classical opera seria to the bel canto operas of Donizetti, Bellini and Rossini; further, to the works of Verdi and Puccini; and, in her early career, to the music dramas of Wagner. Her remarkable musical and dramatic talents led to her being hailed as La Divina.
Born in New York City and raised by an overbearing mother, she received her musical education in Greece and established her career in Italy. Forced to deal with the exigencies of wartime poverty and with myopia that left her nearly blind on stage, she endured struggles and scandal over the course of her career. She turned herself from a heavy woman into a svelte and glamorous one after a mid-career weight loss, which might have contributed to her vocal decline and the premature end of her career. The press exulted in publicizing Callas's allegedly temperamental behavior, her supposed rivalry with Renata Tebaldi, and her love affair with Aristotle Onassis. Her dramatic life and personal tragedy have often overshadowed Callas the artist in the popular press. However, her artistic achievements were such that Leonard Bernstein called her "The Bible of opera",[1] and her influence so enduring that, in 2006, Opera News wrote of her: "Nearly thirty years after her death, she's still the definition of the diva as artist—and still one of classical music's best-selling vocalists."[
I NEED TO LEARN TO LISTEN LIKE "I".
Here it is Tuesday morning. It is raining and I like the sound, smell and coolness of the rain. Sometimes I think I wouldn't mind if it rained all the time. But of course if it did I'm sure I would tire of it very quickly. But for this morning I am enjoying it greatly.
I haven't written again for a few days as my wrist is letting me know it is still here. But I know its going to hurt regardless so here I am again. I am hoping I can string together enough words to somehow make a little sense. We shall see.
The other morning, very early I was sitting on the porch, drinking my coffee. My cup sits so nicely on the wide arms of the rocker. Just rocking and drinking coffee gives me much pleasure. And I was watching "I". She sat out in the yard, her head bent to one side. She was listening, I knew not what too. It was still very early and not many nosies reached my ears. But "I" heard, leaning just a little forward she strained to pick up those unseen sounds.
As I watched her I knew that really listening was a art. A art I do not possess. We can listen, but then we can really listen. Listen to what someone says to us even when they are speaking very few words. I usually am so busy talking myself I really am not paying attention to what someone else has to say. I need to work on doing that very thing. I am sure that is more important that the diet I am always working on and never stick too. There has been way too many Little Debbies visiting my house lately. And I always listen to what she has to say. "Yum, Yum."
It makes us all feel important when we know someone really hears what we are saying. Thinks our ideas and thoughts are worth their time. I have written on this Blog before Judge Judy says, "God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason." I need to turn my listening ears up and the volume on my mouth down a notch or two.
I need to remember "I", her head turned slightly, ears up, sitting very quietly. Just listening. I am so hyper that sitting still is a chore for me, but truly I am working on that trait. So if you should run into me and I am sitting quietly, my ears seeming to reach forward. You will know I am trying to pull a "I". So feel free to jump right in and start talking. It may be your only chance around me. So with these wise words I will turn to make my way out of Blogland. I will do my best to wander back tomorrow. But for now. I'm outta here.
I haven't written again for a few days as my wrist is letting me know it is still here. But I know its going to hurt regardless so here I am again. I am hoping I can string together enough words to somehow make a little sense. We shall see.
The other morning, very early I was sitting on the porch, drinking my coffee. My cup sits so nicely on the wide arms of the rocker. Just rocking and drinking coffee gives me much pleasure. And I was watching "I". She sat out in the yard, her head bent to one side. She was listening, I knew not what too. It was still very early and not many nosies reached my ears. But "I" heard, leaning just a little forward she strained to pick up those unseen sounds.
As I watched her I knew that really listening was a art. A art I do not possess. We can listen, but then we can really listen. Listen to what someone says to us even when they are speaking very few words. I usually am so busy talking myself I really am not paying attention to what someone else has to say. I need to work on doing that very thing. I am sure that is more important that the diet I am always working on and never stick too. There has been way too many Little Debbies visiting my house lately. And I always listen to what she has to say. "Yum, Yum."
It makes us all feel important when we know someone really hears what we are saying. Thinks our ideas and thoughts are worth their time. I have written on this Blog before Judge Judy says, "God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason." I need to turn my listening ears up and the volume on my mouth down a notch or two.
I need to remember "I", her head turned slightly, ears up, sitting very quietly. Just listening. I am so hyper that sitting still is a chore for me, but truly I am working on that trait. So if you should run into me and I am sitting quietly, my ears seeming to reach forward. You will know I am trying to pull a "I". So feel free to jump right in and start talking. It may be your only chance around me. So with these wise words I will turn to make my way out of Blogland. I will do my best to wander back tomorrow. But for now. I'm outta here.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
JUDGE NOT LEST YE BE JUDGED.
Thursday morning is at the door. I cannot see it well yet as darkness still surrounds the house. But it is here, another day I am truly grateful for. I listen as the rain also makes itself known. A rainy Thursady morning. But that's okay, I love the rain.
I believe from small snatches of conversation I have heard from next door that they are burying the man who died today. For that fact I am sorry for the rain. It is never easy saying a final goodbye to a loved one. But something about a rainy, dreary day makes it seem worse. I hope the rain quits soon and sunshine follows.
I have realized the last days I have become guilty of the very thing I complain loud and long about others doing. That is making assumptions of people without really knowing them. Looking at them, at how I think they appear and judging them on appearances. I hate that when people treat me in that fashion. But to my horror I have found I have done that very thing myself.
When the folks next door moved in a few months ago, the Emperor said, "Good grief,"The Clampets." They were loud, noisy and the daughter at thirty-eight had ten children, eighteen and under. The kids always there, the man and woman always yelling and hollering at them. Oh wait a minute the hollering and yelling part sounds like The Emperor and I. Hmmm wonder if that is why the neighbors don't talk to us much. Food for thought.
But anyway I put together as I am sure others around did, a preconceived ideas of the family. Judged them I guess you would say. Older man and woman living together, the man drinking, the woman looking frowzy. Oh wait a minute that sort of sounds like the Emperor and I too. Except of course we're married. Now I know where the phrase ,"The pot calling the kettle black comes from." You sort of write them off in your mind as not being what I believe in their own way they are, A loving family.
As I sat on the porch yesterday, rocking in my new beloved chair. I heard bits of their conversation from their porch as they all wrote their tributes to this man they all knew and loved.
Him and her had been together twenty-two years. So that is the only Grandpa all those little kids knew. She talked of how they had laughed recently of how he had come to visit her and twenty-two years later he was still there. They had a life. They had loved and watched all the grandkids come into the world together. To the outside world they are noisy, hard living. Maybe we think too many kids. But they are a family. And I know without a doubt they love each other. Shame on me for having preconceived ideas about them.
I with the bleached, chopped off hair, Yelling at the gate at the Emperor, "Bye Finn, see you later." My Dad use to have a saying, "On again, off again, gone again Finnegan." I am always grouching because he runs so much. The neighbors probably have a lot of preconceived ideas about us too. But that still did not prevent me from doing the very same thing to others. We see someone and instantly decide what we think they are, who they are. Its not always the truth. It says in the Bible, "Judge not lest ye be judged." I need to remember that.
So I have rambled on in my usual Billye fashion, saying lots of words but really saying nothing. Today I will try to be kinder, more accepting of others. Trying to remember the world is judging me on outside appearances. I should try harder not to do the same thing. But for now. I'm outta here.
I believe from small snatches of conversation I have heard from next door that they are burying the man who died today. For that fact I am sorry for the rain. It is never easy saying a final goodbye to a loved one. But something about a rainy, dreary day makes it seem worse. I hope the rain quits soon and sunshine follows.
I have realized the last days I have become guilty of the very thing I complain loud and long about others doing. That is making assumptions of people without really knowing them. Looking at them, at how I think they appear and judging them on appearances. I hate that when people treat me in that fashion. But to my horror I have found I have done that very thing myself.
When the folks next door moved in a few months ago, the Emperor said, "Good grief,"The Clampets." They were loud, noisy and the daughter at thirty-eight had ten children, eighteen and under. The kids always there, the man and woman always yelling and hollering at them. Oh wait a minute the hollering and yelling part sounds like The Emperor and I. Hmmm wonder if that is why the neighbors don't talk to us much. Food for thought.
But anyway I put together as I am sure others around did, a preconceived ideas of the family. Judged them I guess you would say. Older man and woman living together, the man drinking, the woman looking frowzy. Oh wait a minute that sort of sounds like the Emperor and I too. Except of course we're married. Now I know where the phrase ,"The pot calling the kettle black comes from." You sort of write them off in your mind as not being what I believe in their own way they are, A loving family.
As I sat on the porch yesterday, rocking in my new beloved chair. I heard bits of their conversation from their porch as they all wrote their tributes to this man they all knew and loved.
Him and her had been together twenty-two years. So that is the only Grandpa all those little kids knew. She talked of how they had laughed recently of how he had come to visit her and twenty-two years later he was still there. They had a life. They had loved and watched all the grandkids come into the world together. To the outside world they are noisy, hard living. Maybe we think too many kids. But they are a family. And I know without a doubt they love each other. Shame on me for having preconceived ideas about them.
I with the bleached, chopped off hair, Yelling at the gate at the Emperor, "Bye Finn, see you later." My Dad use to have a saying, "On again, off again, gone again Finnegan." I am always grouching because he runs so much. The neighbors probably have a lot of preconceived ideas about us too. But that still did not prevent me from doing the very same thing to others. We see someone and instantly decide what we think they are, who they are. Its not always the truth. It says in the Bible, "Judge not lest ye be judged." I need to remember that.
So I have rambled on in my usual Billye fashion, saying lots of words but really saying nothing. Today I will try to be kinder, more accepting of others. Trying to remember the world is judging me on outside appearances. I should try harder not to do the same thing. But for now. I'm outta here.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
ME AND MY ADIRONDACK
It is Wednesday morning. I have been sitting on the front porch sipping coffee. I have been rocking as I talked to my sister and waited for first light to break the sky. It is 6:30 and I am just now starting my Blog.I have felt a little lazy this morning as if I didn't want to rush pell-mell into the day.
I wrote yesterday that I had a wonderful surprise. To be honest I have not quit smiling since they brought it to me. It is Adirondack rocking chair. Do you know what that is? It is a big, usually white, wodden chair. Built with wide boards and sits close to the floor. I fell in love with them years ago when I was thumbing through a "Southern Living," magazine. I say that name and see a Southern home with a big porch and one of those rockers sitting there.
My daughter and her husband always has everyone over for Fourth of July. I went into the house at one point and sitting there was this beautiful, big Adirondack rocker. I went back out, calling to Billie. "Where did you get the wonderful rocker, I love it." "Ron made it," she said. My eyes fell on Ron. "Oh please," I pleaded. "I have always wanted one, please. For Christmas." "Everyone would want one," he answered. "They are too much work." But I wanted that chair. A plan came to mind.
Starting in July I went on Facebook and wrote to Santa about my chair. I also said I was trying to be good. I am sure nobody believed it. They only thought there was a crazed old woman writing to Santa and using Facebook. I have wrote every month after. Praying that they would take pity and make me a chair for Christmas. My heart was heavy but I had to have one of those, I just had too.
Labor Day my daughter called. "What are you doing," she asked. "Nothing," I replied. "Well, I'm coming over." I watched at the door. Their truck pulled up and Ron came carrying up this beautiful white Adirondack rocker. I screamed, I yelled, I danced. "Thank-you Ron I said as I hugged him. "Don't thank me," he said. "Thank-your daughter. She insisted." She smiled and said through what might have been clenched teeth. "I do not want to see one more word on Facebook about this chair. I nodded agreement. As soon as they drove away I was on Facebook telling of my Rocker and thanking Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
Did I get the chair because I am a wonderful Mother or because I embarressed my daughter and was actine senile. Hmmmm, I would tend to go with the senile part. But to be totally honest I really don't care. I got me a Adirondack rocker and I am one happy woman. The workmanship is flawless. And you really have no idea how comfortable they are. The arms wide to hold my coffee cup, the seats wide to hold my wide derriere. I truly love this chair.
So I guess I will have to be good now and not be writing to Santa on Facebook. As I sit on the porch and gently rock I ask God to bless my daughter and son-in-law. And all the little elf's that worked so hard. Folks you have no idea of how good Southern living is till you sit in one of these chairs and we're here in the Midwest. I am smiling and rocking the last few days. Long live Santa and Mrs. Claus. But for now, I'm outta here.
I wrote yesterday that I had a wonderful surprise. To be honest I have not quit smiling since they brought it to me. It is Adirondack rocking chair. Do you know what that is? It is a big, usually white, wodden chair. Built with wide boards and sits close to the floor. I fell in love with them years ago when I was thumbing through a "Southern Living," magazine. I say that name and see a Southern home with a big porch and one of those rockers sitting there.
My daughter and her husband always has everyone over for Fourth of July. I went into the house at one point and sitting there was this beautiful, big Adirondack rocker. I went back out, calling to Billie. "Where did you get the wonderful rocker, I love it." "Ron made it," she said. My eyes fell on Ron. "Oh please," I pleaded. "I have always wanted one, please. For Christmas." "Everyone would want one," he answered. "They are too much work." But I wanted that chair. A plan came to mind.
Starting in July I went on Facebook and wrote to Santa about my chair. I also said I was trying to be good. I am sure nobody believed it. They only thought there was a crazed old woman writing to Santa and using Facebook. I have wrote every month after. Praying that they would take pity and make me a chair for Christmas. My heart was heavy but I had to have one of those, I just had too.
Labor Day my daughter called. "What are you doing," she asked. "Nothing," I replied. "Well, I'm coming over." I watched at the door. Their truck pulled up and Ron came carrying up this beautiful white Adirondack rocker. I screamed, I yelled, I danced. "Thank-you Ron I said as I hugged him. "Don't thank me," he said. "Thank-your daughter. She insisted." She smiled and said through what might have been clenched teeth. "I do not want to see one more word on Facebook about this chair. I nodded agreement. As soon as they drove away I was on Facebook telling of my Rocker and thanking Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
Did I get the chair because I am a wonderful Mother or because I embarressed my daughter and was actine senile. Hmmmm, I would tend to go with the senile part. But to be totally honest I really don't care. I got me a Adirondack rocker and I am one happy woman. The workmanship is flawless. And you really have no idea how comfortable they are. The arms wide to hold my coffee cup, the seats wide to hold my wide derriere. I truly love this chair.
So I guess I will have to be good now and not be writing to Santa on Facebook. As I sit on the porch and gently rock I ask God to bless my daughter and son-in-law. And all the little elf's that worked so hard. Folks you have no idea of how good Southern living is till you sit in one of these chairs and we're here in the Midwest. I am smiling and rocking the last few days. Long live Santa and Mrs. Claus. But for now, I'm outta here.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
DEATH BECOMES ASTRANGER MO MORE TO US ALL AT SOME POINT.
It is early Tuesday morning. Daylight has not broken the sky but I know it is close behind the grey clouds. I had a wonderful surprise yesterday. I had already wrote the rough draft for today's Blog but I will write about it tomorrow. A small hint, its about a chair. I am still doing a happy dance around the house.
I suppose the title today may be a little strange sounding. But the man next door to us died this morning at around six-thirty am. I awoke to see the flashing red lights silhouetted against the dark morning sky. Both ambulance and firetruck sitting out on the street in front of our house. I looked out the front door and knew the man must be sick again. He had breathing problems. They have only lived there a short while but he has made several trips to the hospital. I thought he must be up in his seventies. I learned this morning he was only in his fifties. Death is not a respecter of age. Nor a respecter of persons.
I have thought about it since I learned of his passing. I had seen him Saturday as he made his way to the car for his daily trip to the bar. He was on a walker.I wondered if he had known this would be his last weekend would he have chosen to to go sit in a dimly lit bar for the day. Where smoke and liquor clouded his view. Or would he have chosen to sit out in the front yard and let the breezes whirl about him and watch his grandchildren play. Probably not. He probably would have chosen just to finish his life the way I suspect he had lived it for so long. Wasted years.
His ten year old grandson came to our door about eight, tears in his eyes he told me his Grandpa had died. I hugged him, told him I was sorry. In a ten year old fashion he told me that at the hospital on Sunday they had given his Grandpa a breathing treatment and sent him home. They said he was drunk. Too many bottles of Jim Beam in a short time period, I think.. Dallas, bless his ten year old heart, did not realize he was Letting out the family secrets. I am sure he had only seen his Grandpa this way and thought it was normal behavior. But Dallas's grieve was real and heartfelt. He loved this man and now he was gone..
It makes me realize how important it is to live each day to the very fullest. For we never know when it could be our last. That is why it is so useless spending our time being mad, spiteful or whatever. What if these are the very last acts we ever do. I wonder now if when I looked out the window at 5:30 if I had looked closer would I have seen a dark shadowy figure waiting there under the trees. This mans name written on a crumpled piece of paper, that the figure clutched in his hand. The death angel on his mission. I am sorry for the man and his family. I must say I am glad the Angel did not come to my house. That may sound selfish but it is the truth. My prayer is to make each day a memory I will not mind leaving behind. I must say I have left some I would give much to bring back and change. As I have said before here, there is no do overs.
May Wayne Rest in Peace. May God have mercy on his soul. And for today would you please for me take the time to look around and enjoy the beautiful weather and the people you share your life With. Remember we all are only one heartbeat away from eternity. So with these cheery words I will leave you. For today I am outta here.
I suppose the title today may be a little strange sounding. But the man next door to us died this morning at around six-thirty am. I awoke to see the flashing red lights silhouetted against the dark morning sky. Both ambulance and firetruck sitting out on the street in front of our house. I looked out the front door and knew the man must be sick again. He had breathing problems. They have only lived there a short while but he has made several trips to the hospital. I thought he must be up in his seventies. I learned this morning he was only in his fifties. Death is not a respecter of age. Nor a respecter of persons.
I have thought about it since I learned of his passing. I had seen him Saturday as he made his way to the car for his daily trip to the bar. He was on a walker.I wondered if he had known this would be his last weekend would he have chosen to to go sit in a dimly lit bar for the day. Where smoke and liquor clouded his view. Or would he have chosen to sit out in the front yard and let the breezes whirl about him and watch his grandchildren play. Probably not. He probably would have chosen just to finish his life the way I suspect he had lived it for so long. Wasted years.
His ten year old grandson came to our door about eight, tears in his eyes he told me his Grandpa had died. I hugged him, told him I was sorry. In a ten year old fashion he told me that at the hospital on Sunday they had given his Grandpa a breathing treatment and sent him home. They said he was drunk. Too many bottles of Jim Beam in a short time period, I think.. Dallas, bless his ten year old heart, did not realize he was Letting out the family secrets. I am sure he had only seen his Grandpa this way and thought it was normal behavior. But Dallas's grieve was real and heartfelt. He loved this man and now he was gone..
It makes me realize how important it is to live each day to the very fullest. For we never know when it could be our last. That is why it is so useless spending our time being mad, spiteful or whatever. What if these are the very last acts we ever do. I wonder now if when I looked out the window at 5:30 if I had looked closer would I have seen a dark shadowy figure waiting there under the trees. This mans name written on a crumpled piece of paper, that the figure clutched in his hand. The death angel on his mission. I am sorry for the man and his family. I must say I am glad the Angel did not come to my house. That may sound selfish but it is the truth. My prayer is to make each day a memory I will not mind leaving behind. I must say I have left some I would give much to bring back and change. As I have said before here, there is no do overs.
May Wayne Rest in Peace. May God have mercy on his soul. And for today would you please for me take the time to look around and enjoy the beautiful weather and the people you share your life With. Remember we all are only one heartbeat away from eternity. So with these cheery words I will leave you. For today I am outta here.
Monday, September 6, 2010
THE ROAD
Monday morning again. I sit here at the computer, cool air drifting through the front door. Daylight making itself known as Streaks of light start to edge the darkness out. Labor day 2010. Oh years where have you gone? I am going to try not to labor today.
I went to hear my son preach yesterday. Of course as with both my children I see and hear them with a Mothers eyes and ears. I think they are both so intelligent, pretty, handsome and all those attributes. But every time I go to hear Jeremy preach I am not sure where these words are coming from. Oh wait a minute I know. From the Holy Spirit.
Jer and I go round and round over Religion, the forms, the laws. We don't always see eye to eye on everything. But when he goes to preach I am always amazed at the strength of his message.
I believe in church. I strongly believe in God. But I think sometimes the Churches get so involved in their strict list of laws that they forget what its all about. And that is salvation. If you believe the Bible then you believe Christ died on the cross just so we might have eternal life. I like that concept and I believe. What I don't believe is that salvation has anything to do with the length of your hair or what you wear.
Jer preached the word yesterday. I looked around me at the audience. Most of them under forty. Many struggling with a new life, laying aside their pasts that have been filled with drugs and alcohol most of their adult life's. I watched my son and knew what his calling probably will be. Thank God for Churches like the Road that open their doors to those struggling to have a new beganing. They wouldn't fit in I'm sure in many of the large prestigious churches. I sat In God's house yesterday morning. Surrounded by smiling faces that love God and have new hope for their life's. And my son preached. Imagine that will you.
I guess I will close this off for today and wander on out of Blogland. May only good things come your way. But for now I'm outta here.
I went to hear my son preach yesterday. Of course as with both my children I see and hear them with a Mothers eyes and ears. I think they are both so intelligent, pretty, handsome and all those attributes. But every time I go to hear Jeremy preach I am not sure where these words are coming from. Oh wait a minute I know. From the Holy Spirit.
Jer and I go round and round over Religion, the forms, the laws. We don't always see eye to eye on everything. But when he goes to preach I am always amazed at the strength of his message.
I believe in church. I strongly believe in God. But I think sometimes the Churches get so involved in their strict list of laws that they forget what its all about. And that is salvation. If you believe the Bible then you believe Christ died on the cross just so we might have eternal life. I like that concept and I believe. What I don't believe is that salvation has anything to do with the length of your hair or what you wear.
Jer preached the word yesterday. I looked around me at the audience. Most of them under forty. Many struggling with a new life, laying aside their pasts that have been filled with drugs and alcohol most of their adult life's. I watched my son and knew what his calling probably will be. Thank God for Churches like the Road that open their doors to those struggling to have a new beganing. They wouldn't fit in I'm sure in many of the large prestigious churches. I sat In God's house yesterday morning. Surrounded by smiling faces that love God and have new hope for their life's. And my son preached. Imagine that will you.
I guess I will close this off for today and wander on out of Blogland. May only good things come your way. But for now I'm outta here.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
IF YOU'RE GOING THROUGH HELL, JUST KEEP MOVING.
Sunday morning again. It is very early and the night sounds are still out there. The mornings have already begun being a little cooler. Fall is edging closer. Oh I love the fall weather and the turning of the leaves. My favorite time of year.
There is a song that come out a couple of years ago,"If you're going through Hell just keep going." I love the words to that song. Its country of course, what other type of music would have words like those. But if you listen close you will hear some good advice in there. When it feels as if all hell has broke down on you, its not the time to sit down and cry. One line goes, "Just keep on moving, you might get out before the Devil even knows you're there." That my friend is the trick. Troubles come on us all, problems, heartbreak. There is also another line in there, "Keep on moving, if you're scared don't show it." Just move and smile. The Devil won't even know he's got you down. Another good line, "But the good news is there's angels everywhere out on the street
Holdin' out a hand to pull you back up on your feet." Thats the good news. We always have Angels in our lifes. Sometimes though when we get overwhelmed we forget it.
There is a girl. Her name is Jackie. Jackie is related to me. I have not been around her much, not since she was a young girl. She still is very young. But I read her posts on Facebook. She has been going through a really rough time. For a couple of days there she sounded in despair. She is always funny, upbeat. I hated knowing she had heartache. But it lasted only a couple of days. I'm sure she still has a heavy heart but she's up beat again. A smile in her words. She has it down pat, "When you're going through Hell, just keep moving. You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there. Rock on Jackie.
So just remember when life gets rough, smile and move. Its really simple as that I believe. "You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there. But I guess I better move on out of here for today. I'm smiling, I'm moving, and for now I'm outta here. Oh yes the words to the song is as follows.
IF YOU ARE GOING THROUGH HELL.
BY RODNEY Carrington
Well you know those times when you feel like
There's a sign there on your back
That says I don't mind if you kick me, seems like everybody has
Things go from bad to worse
You think it can't get worse than that
And then they do
You step off the straight and narrow
And you don't know where you are
Used the needle of your compass, to sew up your broken heart
Ask directions from a genie in a bottle of jim beam
And she lies to you
That's when you learn the truth
[Chorus]
If you're goin' through hell keep on going
Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
I've been deep down in that darkness
I've been down to my last match
Felt a hundred different deamons breathin' fire down my back
And I knew that if I stumbled I'd fall right into the trap
That they were layin'
But the good news is there's angels everywhere out on the street
Holdin' out a hand to pull you back up on your feet
The one's that you've been draggin' for so long
You're on your knees might as well be prayin'
Guess what I'm sayin'
[Chorus]
If you're goin' through hell keep on going
Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
When you're goin' through hell keep on movin'
Face that fire walk right through it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
If you're goin' through hell keep on going
Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
When you're goin' through hell keep on movin'
Face that fire walk right through it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
There is a song that come out a couple of years ago,"If you're going through Hell just keep going." I love the words to that song. Its country of course, what other type of music would have words like those. But if you listen close you will hear some good advice in there. When it feels as if all hell has broke down on you, its not the time to sit down and cry. One line goes, "Just keep on moving, you might get out before the Devil even knows you're there." That my friend is the trick. Troubles come on us all, problems, heartbreak. There is also another line in there, "Keep on moving, if you're scared don't show it." Just move and smile. The Devil won't even know he's got you down. Another good line, "But the good news is there's angels everywhere out on the street
Holdin' out a hand to pull you back up on your feet." Thats the good news. We always have Angels in our lifes. Sometimes though when we get overwhelmed we forget it.
There is a girl. Her name is Jackie. Jackie is related to me. I have not been around her much, not since she was a young girl. She still is very young. But I read her posts on Facebook. She has been going through a really rough time. For a couple of days there she sounded in despair. She is always funny, upbeat. I hated knowing she had heartache. But it lasted only a couple of days. I'm sure she still has a heavy heart but she's up beat again. A smile in her words. She has it down pat, "When you're going through Hell, just keep moving. You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there. Rock on Jackie.
So just remember when life gets rough, smile and move. Its really simple as that I believe. "You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there. But I guess I better move on out of here for today. I'm smiling, I'm moving, and for now I'm outta here. Oh yes the words to the song is as follows.
IF YOU ARE GOING THROUGH HELL.
BY RODNEY Carrington
Well you know those times when you feel like
There's a sign there on your back
That says I don't mind if you kick me, seems like everybody has
Things go from bad to worse
You think it can't get worse than that
And then they do
You step off the straight and narrow
And you don't know where you are
Used the needle of your compass, to sew up your broken heart
Ask directions from a genie in a bottle of jim beam
And she lies to you
That's when you learn the truth
[Chorus]
If you're goin' through hell keep on going
Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
I've been deep down in that darkness
I've been down to my last match
Felt a hundred different deamons breathin' fire down my back
And I knew that if I stumbled I'd fall right into the trap
That they were layin'
But the good news is there's angels everywhere out on the street
Holdin' out a hand to pull you back up on your feet
The one's that you've been draggin' for so long
You're on your knees might as well be prayin'
Guess what I'm sayin'
[Chorus]
If you're goin' through hell keep on going
Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
When you're goin' through hell keep on movin'
Face that fire walk right through it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
If you're goin' through hell keep on going
Don't slow down if you're scared don't show it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
When you're goin' through hell keep on movin'
Face that fire walk right through it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there
Saturday, September 4, 2010
I NEED TO GET MY S--T TOGETHER.
It is Saturday morning, September the fourth. Five Am and I am listening as the coffee makes its gurgling sounds as it slowly makes it way into the pot. My brain is sort of on the slow side too. And I yesterday in brash anticipation promised wit and words. There is a chance I might not be able to deliver. I will do my best.
\
Yesterday my son. You know the Theology student,told me he wouldn't trade me as a Mother but he sure wished I would get my s--t together. I laughed because we all know this will never happen. But I got to wondering after he left just how a person gets their s--t all in pone place to get it together. And just what does that consist of? Does he mean your material belongings. Even I know that probably is not the case. I would venture to think he means the way I act.
I tried to think of a plan which would consist of pulling my actions together in a more concise manner. It wore me out just trying to come up with a plan. I am afraid Son this probably is not going to materaize. This getting my s--t put together better.
I probably have written on here before that my younger sister told me once that my forces were scattered at birth and I would never get them back together. I smile for she seems to have been right. Actually if I was to be totally truthful I really don't want to get it together. I have lived this way so many years I just think I will probably continue in the same hap hazard way. I apologise. For I know it certainly rubs some the wrong way, these scattered forces of mine. I am a firm believer life will laugh at you most of the time anyway, a living funny paper. You might as well laugh right along with it. And not take any of it too serious.
So these are my rambling thoughts for the day. I am afraid my pocket had a hole in it and the wit and words once again were blown away. Always just outside my reach. So as I turn to leave Blogland I try to gather a little of my forces so I can at least appear today as having some of it in order. See Son, aren't you proud of me? But for now, I'm outta here.
\
Yesterday my son. You know the Theology student,told me he wouldn't trade me as a Mother but he sure wished I would get my s--t together. I laughed because we all know this will never happen. But I got to wondering after he left just how a person gets their s--t all in pone place to get it together. And just what does that consist of? Does he mean your material belongings. Even I know that probably is not the case. I would venture to think he means the way I act.
I tried to think of a plan which would consist of pulling my actions together in a more concise manner. It wore me out just trying to come up with a plan. I am afraid Son this probably is not going to materaize. This getting my s--t put together better.
I probably have written on here before that my younger sister told me once that my forces were scattered at birth and I would never get them back together. I smile for she seems to have been right. Actually if I was to be totally truthful I really don't want to get it together. I have lived this way so many years I just think I will probably continue in the same hap hazard way. I apologise. For I know it certainly rubs some the wrong way, these scattered forces of mine. I am a firm believer life will laugh at you most of the time anyway, a living funny paper. You might as well laugh right along with it. And not take any of it too serious.
So these are my rambling thoughts for the day. I am afraid my pocket had a hole in it and the wit and words once again were blown away. Always just outside my reach. So as I turn to leave Blogland I try to gather a little of my forces so I can at least appear today as having some of it in order. See Son, aren't you proud of me? But for now, I'm outta here.
Friday, September 3, 2010
GUESS I'LL TRY AGAIN.
It is Friday morning, September the third. Not as early as I use to write. I have toyed the last month or so if I should pick up where I left off and write the rest of the days I have remaining. I wrote 185 times out of the great 365 day promise. I broke my wrist and that vow came tumbling down. I have written a couple of times after that and figured after three weeks nobody was reading. But yesterday I decided to try again. I have been waiting to say this, "I'm back!"
Sitting down at the keyboard I venture slowly into Blogland, standing at the edge of the vast domain I survey my surroundings. Nothing looks changed, should I venture on in? I stick my hand down deep into my pocket. Have I brought wit and words along. I feel several loose words lay scattered in the folds of the fabric. There is no wit. The movement of my hand causes some of the words to tumble to the ground. Bending down I scoop them up from the dust as the wind picks them from my hand and whirls them into the air. No words, no wit. This Blog may be very dull. But heck here goes.
This has been a strange year it seems to me. Lots of drama, fear, despair. Then new hope and Faith. Life is such a changing thing. Even after all these years I'm amazed at how swiftly it can turn. In a instant heartbeat, something special can start, something special can end.
The last few years I have given up on Doctors and on worrying what might strike me down. I truly have come to believe I can think strong enough to make all the illness's to just sail right over me. Then I broke my wrist. I was even surprised at myself on being so upset over it. I guess I really believed my Mojo would keep me exempt from a break. When I fell that morning and slowly pulled myself up from the sidewalk I felt vulnerable. I don't feel that way very often. Usually I think can talk my way out of anything. This time the sidewalk talked back.
I look at this last year, I know its not over yet. But I look at it in three important parts. Mikayla, her battle. My Birthday which was traumatic to say the least and then the fall. I truly believed I could sail up and down the sidewalks, not seeing good. But always make it back home the way I started. "Oops," I learned that is not always the case. So I have pouted the last couple of months. Not writing, cursing the fate that let me grow old and have weak bones.
But truly I am very glad to be here. Still alive, hope in my heart. People aren't always the way I want therm to be. But yes I know, I am not always the way people wants me to be either. I guess as they say, thats life. But I am truly going to try to keep this going another 165 days. Maybe a few will discover I am back and come along for the ride.
You already know I am nuts, so nothing I say will surprise you. For now I will ander back out of Blog land. Tomorrow I will try to bring Wit along for the ride. But for now, I'm outta here.
Sitting down at the keyboard I venture slowly into Blogland, standing at the edge of the vast domain I survey my surroundings. Nothing looks changed, should I venture on in? I stick my hand down deep into my pocket. Have I brought wit and words along. I feel several loose words lay scattered in the folds of the fabric. There is no wit. The movement of my hand causes some of the words to tumble to the ground. Bending down I scoop them up from the dust as the wind picks them from my hand and whirls them into the air. No words, no wit. This Blog may be very dull. But heck here goes.
This has been a strange year it seems to me. Lots of drama, fear, despair. Then new hope and Faith. Life is such a changing thing. Even after all these years I'm amazed at how swiftly it can turn. In a instant heartbeat, something special can start, something special can end.
The last few years I have given up on Doctors and on worrying what might strike me down. I truly have come to believe I can think strong enough to make all the illness's to just sail right over me. Then I broke my wrist. I was even surprised at myself on being so upset over it. I guess I really believed my Mojo would keep me exempt from a break. When I fell that morning and slowly pulled myself up from the sidewalk I felt vulnerable. I don't feel that way very often. Usually I think can talk my way out of anything. This time the sidewalk talked back.
I look at this last year, I know its not over yet. But I look at it in three important parts. Mikayla, her battle. My Birthday which was traumatic to say the least and then the fall. I truly believed I could sail up and down the sidewalks, not seeing good. But always make it back home the way I started. "Oops," I learned that is not always the case. So I have pouted the last couple of months. Not writing, cursing the fate that let me grow old and have weak bones.
But truly I am very glad to be here. Still alive, hope in my heart. People aren't always the way I want therm to be. But yes I know, I am not always the way people wants me to be either. I guess as they say, thats life. But I am truly going to try to keep this going another 165 days. Maybe a few will discover I am back and come along for the ride.
You already know I am nuts, so nothing I say will surprise you. For now I will ander back out of Blog land. Tomorrow I will try to bring Wit along for the ride. But for now, I'm outta here.
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