A Dull Day

Guest Post by Dr. Frank Crane.
Even if your day is dull one, this post will make you smile.
Or at least smirk for a second.

The sun may be shining when you read this, but it was a dull day when it was written.
The sky is an ugly, drab smudge. There is no sun, no rain, no wind, nothing.
Across the street is a house. It is a stupid house, full of stupid people. I know them. I wish I didn't. There are many people you are sorry to have met.
It's too close to have a fire and too cold to do without one. Is there anything hollower and drearier than a fireless fireplace?
A bird is on a tree outdoors. He is not singing. His head is all drawn down into his shoulders. He is just sitting there hating himself.
A number of people have passed by the window. They are the dullest, homeliest bunch of human creatures I ever saw. I hate them all.
A crash--the hired girl has just smashed one of our best plates, an extra fine Sunday plate with gold on it. The only reason I don't go out and give her a dressing-down is because I hate to move.
Why Move? Such a day as this you are no happier anywhere than where you are. If you must be miserable why spread it around?
Old Mrs. Grumpet has just called. She has told the missus for the nth time about her troubles. She has all the diseases she has ever heard of. As soon as she hears of a new one she goes and has it. She has more symptoms than a patient-medicine almanac. And it's all along of that blue mass she took just before Austey was born. She's a dreadful vast, steamy creature.
She has left an aroma of added wretchedness in the house. We opened the window to admit some fresh air and the flies came in. I loathe flies.
I chased them with a fly-swatter and broke an expensive vase. All vases must some day be shattered, as all men must die.
All women must die too, and all children, also all dogs, cats, horses, cows, and grizzly bears. A hundred years from now everybody and everything will be dead. There will be a new crop. After awhile they, too, will die. What's the use?
The gas-stove is out of fix this morning. So am I. So is the universe.
There is no news in the paper. Newspapers are all poor. Why read? Aren't you miserable enough as you are?
I am trying to have a vacation and enjoy myself. This morning I played a game of tennis and was beaten by a poor boob that played worse than I. Then I played two games of solitaire. Lost both.
I went to the cupboard to see----. Nothing there but grape juice.
The weather is thickening. It is going to rain. It is hours and hours till bedtime.


This post was so perfect for the day I was having and was written in 1919.
Since computers weren't around then, I can only assume his published sentiments and essays were as close to a blog as they had back then.
I loved it.
Thanks Frank.

Thank-you for being here.




Perspective Pic:

"What is this Dull Day you speak of?"

Yes, It hurts!

I am wondering how many of my readers have tattoos?
......That many?........Hmmmmmm......
And how many of you with tattoos have said to someone else, "It doesn't hurt, you should get one!"
If you have said these words or something even remotely similar, then you my lovely reader are a liar.
If I don't know you personally, then I feel bad for calling you names without giving you the benefit of the doubt.
If I do know you personally, then I just feel bad for you.
You should have listened to your mother and made wiser decisions when you picked your friends.
But if you are NOT a liar, then you have super powers with a pain tolerance that is off the scale and I am going to watch you very closely because you are not an earthling.
So many people say to me, "Oh it doesn't hurt that bad".
Well, yes... yes, it does.
It is a grit your teeth, close your eyes, scrunch your hiney up, pray to Jesus, kind of hurtiness.
Maybe it has to do with my age
I didn't get my first tattoo till I was 55.
Why did I wait so long?
-I was thinking that my skin would be older and tougher and could handle the needle?
-I was waiting for my middle daughter to grow up and be my personal tattoo artist?
-I was thinking that I had no idea what to have tattooed on my skin?
-I was waiting for tattoos to be socially acceptable?
-I was thinking that I was thinking of other things and tattoos were not one of those things?
Hhhhmmmmmmmmmm......................
I think I waited so long because I avoid pain whenever possible and I knew, despite what many people said, that it would be painful.
In case you don't know it yet, tattoos hurt like the ever loving dickens.
Lets talk about pain...........
I've had:
3 surgeries,
28 stitches,
1 broken bone,
sunburned my eyes,
yes, my eyeballs,
3 cracked ribs,
birthed 4 babies,
a cockatiel bit all the way THROUGH my pointer finger,
I pulled 55 ticks off my body in one weekend and
cut the end off my pinky finger with a kitchen knife.
I know pain!
But I also know that the listed painful events above were NOT MY CHOICE.
I HAD to endure those events because their was no other option.
I chose to be in pain for tattooing though and I actually have no regrets.

It all started out with a simple Latin phrase,

First Tattoo
Latin for 'Freaking Hurts'
Not really.
It means Time Flies
My son found it on an old Boston graveyard tombstone.

Then a dandelion was added to the Latin phrase,

Second Tattoo
Dandelion: to signify constipation remedies.
Not really.
To show how easily and literally Time Flies

Then had my earlobes done,

Third Tattoo
Star on each ear so I could use up the space on my Buddha-like earlobes.
Well that, and I now always have earrings on.

Then added swirly stuff to the Latin Phrase Dandelion tattoo,

Fourth Tattoo
Done last week.
Swirly Stuff with pearls of color to represent each of my children and my grand baby and to help frame up tattoos 1 & 2.

All my tattoos were done freehand by my fabulous daughter who makes a very good living as a tattoo artist.
For someone trying to avoid pain, it would seem that there should be zero tattoos on my person.
But my daughters art now goes with me wherever I go and that's pretty awesome......and worth the pain.
Conclusion?....
Pain is relative.
Literally.


Thanks for being here.

Technology Dress-up.

Loving technology like iDo would make it seem like iWould snap up the latest gizmo and add it to my stash of cool gadgets.
But loving money like iDo prevents me from forking over the necessary cash to own them unnecessarily.
Case in point: iHave an iPhone 4s.
You're thinking, "What a dinosaur!"
Well that is a compliment in my world, for dinosaurs are adored by me, but iKnow you say that as a gibe to keep me current and iUnderstand and acknowledge the truth in it.
So in order to stay on top of all things dinosaur techy, iRecently got the iPhone 6.

For 12 days.

That was enough.

Even though there was a restocking fee of $35 iWas willing to pay it to return this piece of technology that cost me more than my first car (used and massive=$300) and my wedding (churchy and small=$600) combined.
It wasn't that iDidn't enjoy the phone.
It was more psychological.
Along these lines....
iRemember playing with Barbies.
And yes, iAm so old that my sister and iHad some of the first Barbies ever made.
My mother or grandmother made us clothes for our Barbies (we each had only one) out of the scraps of fabric used to make outfits for us, or sometimes we used birthday money we had saved to buy a new outfit or accessory.
We could only get a new Barbie if it were a holiday where we received gifts and we had requested a Barbie because we had possibly burned all her hair off or pulled her leg out its socket, or dropped her down the sewer grate to wrestle the alligators that lived there.
After we destroyed them outgrew them, my sister and I left them behind to become adults.
We had children of our own and our girls liked Barbies too.
But guess what?
You could no longer buy seperate clothes or accessories for our childs Barbie, we had to buy a whole new Barbie.
Scuba Diver Barbie.
Paleantologist Barbie.
Chef Barbie.
Astronaut Barbie.
Ballerina Barbie.
Alligator Wrestler Barbie.
iMade that one up because iLove alligators, but you get the iDea.
iJust couldn't play that financial game and still afford food and school supplies.
Video Games did the same thing.
Music, same thing.
Movies, same thing.
Alligator Wrestling, same thing.
(Just kidding, Alligators Wrestling is still inexpensive and timeless if you live in the swamp or bayou like iDid as a kid and actually DON'T wrestle them because they will bite your face off or you're super rich and nothing is too expensive for you)
It is impossible to just upgrade and accessorize what you already have anymore.
Gotta have a whole new...Game system....Movie collection...Music Player....Alligator....whatever.
We are lured back to the cash register with a promise that "This is better, newer and cooler", even though it was only a teeny tiny bit different.
While iLove Apple products, iDidn't need this new phone.
iFell into the "Mine is old now so iGotta get a new one" trap.
But my 4s did everything the 6 did, just a wee bit slower.
The music even sounded better to me on the 4s.
So iReturned the 6, got my money back and slept like a baby that night because the night before iHad watched alligator wrestling videos till 4:00am iFelt iHad temporarily rescued myself from the hamster wheel of technology.
(Hamsters are delicious to alligators)
iHave no doubt that iWill get a new iPhone one of these days and iWill enjoy it, but for now iJust bought a new accessory (screen protector) and outfit (case) for my dinosaur old 4s and iAm happy.



My Son and Daughter Trying Scare an Alligator....the reptile is obviously terrified....



Alligator Kissy Time.
My Family loves kissing Alligators!
Alligators love kissing.....your face off!

Thanks for being here!


UPDATE:
This post was written 2 weeks ago and when iWent to get a baby gift this week, guess what I saw??!
Barbie accessories.
Now sold in stores.
Saw it with my own eyes.
iFound small blister packs consisting of a dress and shoes for $5.00.
The outfits were ugly...or at best, mostly ugly.
The only cute accessories were included with a doll for $10.00.
Alligators hate dolls..... and accessories.
iCan't seem to let this alligator thing go....
It's messing up my whole Stop Making Me Buy New Stuff Of The Same Thing All The Time point.
Sheesh.

Thanks again for being here anyway.

Thanks for Being Here.

Let me begin this post by stating: "Thanks for being here".
I mean that truly.
There are not many things I say or think more often......except maybe: "You're not the boss of me" or even the usually silent motto my brain has muttered tirelessly for over half a century :
"Life sucks, then you die".
I'm sure your thinking, "Wait a minute now, that is an acutely negative statement!".
Or maybe you're even thinking, "Dadgummit, my phone is at 3% and I don't know where I put my charger!".
Both good observations, but your house is far away so I can't help and the dog chewed the cord anyway.
In my mind, 'LSTYD' is not really that negative and doesn't seem to be too bad when on the occasion I have shared this motto with a co-worker who was about to box cut an especially irritating customer.
Or when you get charged $35.00 for a $5.27 debit that was mistakenly made on an empty bank account for the ICEE and two packs of breath mints that you didn't need right then anyway.
That kind of thing.
It seems to put some circumstances into perspective.
Or since most of the world is younger than me, this sentiment can be easily chalked up as 'old person cranky-talk'.
Truth be told, I got the "life sucks, then you die" sentiment from a friend decades ago who told me that she approaches each day with this attitude and it helps her get through life.
If the day is good then it is an extra fabulous surprise for her to celebrate and if it sucks than she just shrugs her shoulders and gets on with things, because that was what she was expecting.
Works for me and is not as depressing as "Hang in there".
Blarg.
Now that I am getting older and more philosophical, I constantly ponder how sliced cheese can stay in that thin, transparent plastic wrapper and be all cute and delicious without all kinds of messy pressed edges, lumps and cheese pieces stuck to the wrapper!
I also ponder about life and death.
Regularly.
That's kinda why I like blogging.
It is in the blogging thought process that I can see and reflect on the idea that life is pretty ridiculous.
And pretty awesome.
Even the sucky days.
The sucky days help give a needed appreciation for the good days and the kind/thoughtful people that help make each day a bit brighter.
I like the good days and the kind people and I am grateful for both.
That means I am grateful for you.
Yes, YOU.
You are awesome because you are kind enough to read my blog and that helps make sucky days good.
That is why I say "Thanks for being here" at the end of every post.
I am grateful, indebted and sincere.

Thanks for being here.



Raspberry Heart

I offer, with gratitude and affection, this handmade raspberry heart.
Made with raspberries picked from my very own garden because not many people can appreciate a heart made out of celery.
That is how much I love you...........and because fresh raspberries are delicious.
I could have used some of my red tomatoes but they were all wonky and not nearly as affectionate.

You NEED A Pinecone!

Pinecone.

For some weird reason my mother thought I needed to have this pinecone.
I asked her why and she claims it's because we don't have any this big in the mountains.
I didn't know we needed any.
It is 10 1/2 inches tall....prickly.....lopsided.......and......a pinecone.......
It was very confusing to me when my son and I arrived at her home and she said that she had saved this pinecone for me.
"I'm sure you can do something with it", she said proudly, knowing my love of crafting.
But I'm not 7 years old any more.
I immediately thought, 'firestarter' but couldn't say it out loud and just said "Ok", leaving the pinecone on the trunk of her car and moving on with other activities
We spent the next few days enjoying the visit and not thinking about the pinecone.
When the time came to leave and we were actually ready to pull out of the drive, she waves frantically at us to stop and says "Ooohhh, you forgot your pinecone!"
Dadgummitt...Yes I did....
Gotta take the pinecone.
She seemed pretty normal, healthy and stable during our visit, but the obsession over this pinecone threw my assurance of her mental state off a bit.
So being the loving daughter required by law that I am, the pinecone sits on my desk.
Next to my computer.
Creeping me out a bit.
So I made the pinecone more personable.
Sort of like Wilson in the Castaway movie


Personable Pinecone

I sent the picture to my mother and texting back she says, "I love it! I will have to do that to mine!"
She has one?
I know the tree of origin has many pinecone children but not all of them can be household decorating accessories.
Is there a karma connection or just a guilt one.
It is kind of unsettling.
So to make matters even more bizarre and disturbing, my pinecone now has outfits.


"Let's eat Mexican Food" Pinecone!"


Goth Pinecone.


Cowboy Pinecone.


Mentor Pinecone.


"I am craving Hawaiian Pizza" Tropical Pinecone.

Strangely it was a wee bit fun playing with my pinecone.
But please don't tell my mother.
Or she will send me home with a bag full of the things next time I see her.

Thanks for being here.

Now you see me.....

Went to the store today in search of a necklace.
The 'perfect' necklace was my goal, to wear with a new dress I adored and had purchased for a hotsy totsy shindig I must attend this weekend.
The torment of this post is that I am a horrible shopper.
Not only am I bad at it, I don't like it.
No, thats too mild.....I hate it!
Horrible at it and hating it are probably symptomatic of each other and might not be in this story at all if I had unlimited hours on the clock, lots of extra money to use while shopping for myself and if.....
...there were no mirrors.
Mirrors are the worst.
The only time I use them at home is to look at my hair tangles, to check my face for any wayward hairs, zits and stranded broccoli or to make sure my slip is not showing.
But to go to a store and see myself from every direction, in bright light (my house is dark...shall we say cave-like?) makes me double take in shock and look for the ropes to hold down this Macy's Day Parade balloon person I saw in the mirror.
Shopping for myself and by myself...in public...means I want something very badly or very quickly, or both, but as soon as I got a glimpse of myself in the 3 way mirror I was ready to go home.
(Well, I was ready to go home as soon as I got out of the car, but I was on a mission)
A necklace is, was and never will be enough to 'accentuate the positive'.
My mind has been playing tricks on me, convincing me that 'one more cookie won't matter'.
It apparently matters very much and I fell for it easily and repeatedly without the benefit of a giant mirror, bright lights and a positive self image.
"But hey, snap out of it!"
"No pity parties here!"
At least not enough pity or party to warrant a change of lighting, bigger mirrors and life without cookies.
I'm healthy, mostly happy, loved by some and my 80 year old mother has reminded me for years that "The older you get, the more your body does whatever the heidi-ho it wants to anyway", so I just need to embrace who I am and move on with my life.
So I will.
After all, everyday puts me one step closer to the grave where there will be no need for shopping... or mirrors.


No mirrors!

Oh, I did not find a necklace today.
I have to go out again tomorrow...................


Thanks for being here.

Swampy Alien Noises...

Do your insides ever make wierd noises?
Noises like something was taking a nap under the surface layer of some swamp muck and it just turned over to get more comfortable and made the blurping, bubbley, squishy sound that is so low frequency you're worried that your WiFi signal will be disrupted?
Or perhaps it's an alien egg that snuck it's way into my gut by way of my leftovers that became a pot of vegtable soup that was made the other day and now has fully matured and is ready to unleash it's huge mandibles on an unsuspecting, politically correct, ethnically diverse group of people!!
My 80 year old mother advises me not to worry.
"The older you get the more your body does whatever the heidi-ho it wants to do anyway".
Which is a remarkable comment coming from her because she's a worrier and she gives more money to her Doctor than to her church, and she LOVES her church and she never says heidi-ho.
I just added the heidi-ho because that is what I would say and my mother would never tell me not to worry.
Like I said she LOVES her Doctor or should I say Doctors for they are many, and would visit them if her air conditioner went out.
No, in reality she just called a repairman for that but went to the Doctor because her hot flashes were flaring up again.
I don't think she believed me when I said it was just a broken air conditioner that made her hot.
She lives in Florida for crying out loud.
It was 89 degrees in the shade...with a breeze...and a cold drink.
She is just trying not to die.
But aren't we all?
Even our gut monsters just wanna live.
They probably would prefer to live in air-conditioning.
But why do they live so noisily?
My Doctor says it's a good thing when your gut makes noises.
It means that "things are working down there".
What is working?
The swampy alien things?
My Doctor is probably just a black market swampy alien dispersal unit and instead of giving me a vaccine is really injecting swampy alien gut seeds into me and when the time is right, in a quiet moment, after I have just blamed the dog on my loud gut rumblings.......I will burp loudly......and all will be right with my world.
"Pardon me, please".
(Said with a sweet southern drawl and a demure smile)

Must be.....Swamp Gas....

Thanks for being here.

Since there really is no picture I could add to this post to help illustrate my intestinal anguish, here is a pile of adorable puppies that will never worry about swampy alien gut noises. Enjoy.


Cute, Alien Free Swamp Puppies.

Just kidding, just Alien Free Puppies.
No Swamp involved.
They were born in the Mountains.

Just Thought You Should Know...

Bought a fridge 2 years ago.
First one we have purchased in.. oh...12 years?
Refrigerators are supposed to grow old with you.
Old refrigerators help you remember where your ketchup is or if the meatloaf is still any good.
But when they quit and the 'job-well-done' eulogy is said as they are wheeled away, you are grateful that they had a long, good, working existence.
Now, apparently, according to repair-people, if you get one that lasts 5-7 years then you got a bargain.
What?
A 5 year old fridge is still learning where the best place to keep the orange juice is!
So, our 2 year old fridge quit working.
The manufacturer (Whirlpool) and the seller( Lowes) could care less.
BOTH said that this is a common problem and that Extended Warranties are their only solution.
So my take away from that response is that unless you buy a warranty, which apparently Whirlpool and Lowes NOW tells us should always be done, that 2 years is more than you should expect in the uninterrupted service of your appliance and that we were lucky to get those 2 years!
So if it's that important why is it an option and not just added to the total purchase price?
Surely on some planet this make sense...
Or does it?
We have no recourse.
We have no fridge.
We have no desire to let this go unnoticed.
Below is our letter of gratitude for the lovely attitude we received from the corporate world.

Hello Whirlpool,

Thank you so much for your simulatedly helpful response to our issue with the Whirlpool French Door Bottom Mount Refrigerator, # WRF990SLAM00.
It is so refreshing to find a company that says they build quality appliances and then they stand behind these appliances with a wonderful refusal to offer customer service.
Your ability to keep the networks of American employment open as we repeatedly wait, watch and pay for our repairman to troubleshoot the issue that originated in your factory is simply apathy at its finest.
Because lack of service and sub-par quality like yours is so rare we wanted you to know that we will tell everyone about our emotional, bank rupturing experience.
It is amazing that Whirlpool understands the consumer so well that you are able to realize that saving thousands of dollars to spend on an appliance that only lasts 2 years is the American Dream!
Two whole years…and we had dared to hope for so many more!
Thanks again for taking time out of your busy day of fabricating quality and overcharging customers to read this letter.

With Sincere and Opposite Implications,
Jeff and Sherry XXXXXXX
5-30-2015


Made a little video to show you how we feel right now.

Whirlpool Love

Blog lesson of the day:
"Extended warranties are a corporations twisted way or coercing customers into giving them permission to make inferior products."

Thanks for being here.
Just thought you should know.

Germs

I hate germs.
I'm sure they hate me too.
The germs and I each have our little battle plans and have to outsmart each other on a daily basis.
They sneakily follow me around and try to make me puke, snot or die all the time.
But I boldly try to wound them with counter attacks of Vitamin C bombs or hand washings that send them to their chlorinated, watery deaths or arieal attacks of Lysol spray.
I also avoid sick people as much as possible.
The aversion to sickly humans is not nearly as bad as it once was when my 4 children were young.
My goodness, unless you have had multiples of children you have no idea of the terror a sick person near your family can bring.
When one child got sick, then you just had to clear your schedule and just wait for the next and the next and the next and then quite possibly the parents to come down with it too.
My oldest missed 57 days of first grade because she had to catch everything that the other children had and then bring it home to share with her family.
So missing a lot of school was not a problem for the younger kids when they started to go, and our family has now built up a resistance to a myriad of germ soldiers.
All this to say that I spent way too much time dealing with germs in my life and now I hate them.
So what did I do when my sick grandson came over today?
Well there's a germ war on so I lathered him with soap and water, put new sanitized germ killing clothes on him, put a face mask on him and me and then quarantined his little self to the Pack and Play war barracks.
.....NOT !!!.....
I hugged him, held him, played with him, tickled him, shared my breakfast muffin with him, kissed his little face and head way too many times and pretended that germs don't even exist.
Who am I ?
Where had my battle plan gone?
All thought and reason went out the window when that toddling, smiling, loving, curious, babbling, adorable yet sickly Trojan Baby filled with germs came to my house.
He was feeling kinda puny and had no desire to be sanitized and disinfected.
He needed some Pookie Love and attention and there was no denying him.
Germs may not know it but Pookie Love is a powerful, purifying antiseptic in the game of germ warfare and I've got stockpiles, battalions and arsenals full of that stuff and germs that mess with my grand baby will receive no mercy.
Love that boy!
Can you tell?


Pookie's weak spot in her war against germs.


Thanks for being here.
Thanks for reading my blog!

Mother's Day Guilt.

I am a horrible daughter.
These last few days I have been trying to figure out how to get out of driving down to see my mother on Mother's Day weekend.
The problem is that I already mentioned to her that I was coming and it is a scientific fact that elderly people need things to look forward to.
I know this 'looking forward to things' thing is true because my mother told me it is and because I can't just tell her I don't want to come visit after all.
She raised me and kept me from extinction so as old as I have become I should consider myself fortunate to still have a living mother!
And I do...
But I just saw her during Spring Break when my son and I drove down for the weekend.
My son only agreed to go visiting during his Spring Break because my mother's neighborhood had free drinks and a wet t-shirt contest.
Just kidding.
We drank fresh orange juice from the trees and swam in the lake with our clothes on.
Really though, he's a good son who hardly gets to see his only living grandparent and fresh orange juice is a powerful motivator to young people.
ANYWAY, when we saw her I couldn't help thinking to myself that she is really old now and I should visit more often.
So I thought I should bugger down there for Mother's Day and enjoy my mother while I can.
I also thought to myself that it's important to visit because I haven't seen her on Mother's Day since I became a mother myself 3 decades ago.
And I haven't.
Except for last year on Mother's Day.
AND the year before that.
Criminitly!
How could I forget that?
Well:
1) I'm old now.
2) They were only considered vacation visits in my mind because my family started vacationing very close to where she lives.
3) Forget what?
So now it's gonna be 3 years in a row of Mother's Day visitation.
What a doofus I am.
So now my intent to make this big sacrifice of missing my own Mother's Day, with my 4 fabulous babies and seeing my mother as if I hadn't done that in years, is now a bust.
No sacrifice now at all, except for the gray cells that killed themselves when they found out that they were confined in a doofus head.
I'm sure there is a mass exodus of gray matter with every decision I make.
But it's too late now to change my plans.
I even got 2 new tires and an oil change so it would be a stress free weekend.
At least mechanically, because stress is like a food group to my mother.
She eats up the stress and drama of helping people live their lives according to her rules like alligators eat small dogs.
If there were calories in shaming and reproach, then my mother would be obese.
But she is actually tiny and cute and.....my mother.
She normally reserves this negative behavior for her family only.
So I have learned the cues that make her judgment avertible and try to be the best mother I can to my own children by avoiding her chosen 'mothering techniques'.
So now you know why I was trying to avoid a Mother's Day visit, but am going anyway.
I must make the trip because of the overwhelming guilt of not going to visit enough if she dies by next Mother's Day and because of the need for wet clothes and fresh orange juice.
Just kidding.
I'm bringing a bathing suit.


Lake Swimming


Fresh Orange Juice.

Thanks for being here.

And then.....

I love blogging.
When I first started, it was kind of a rant blog.
Just between me and my brain during a dark era of my life.
No published posts, just a place to vent and try to put words to the things that made no sense to me.
Like trying to sift the stars out of the darkness to see if I could bring a speck of light to my messy life.
And then....
I deleted everything.
Every word.
I knew I had to stop writing about it because it would never make sense.
It was killing me.
That dark era will forever be a shadow monster that follows me around and growls to let me know it's real, but by deleting all the verbage I spewed, I can't look it in the face and relive the fear.
And then....
I got chickens.
Dadgummitt people, if you've never had chickens, you are missing out.
They are so much fun.
They are also a lot of work and a fragile link in the Mother Nature chain and soon became the focus my next blog.
It was really the beginning of my public blogging and my posts were less than eloquent.
But I enjoyed sharing their feathery escapades and my ignorance.
And then.......
The chickens were killed.
In broad daylight.
With my 2 dogs outside in the sun, oblivious to a cunning predator lurking in their yard!
It was devastating and the end of my blogging career.
And then......
My youngest daughter tells the family she's pregnant.
I'm going to be a grandmother!
It was exciting and new!
Especially for someone who was not supposed to be able to have any kids at all.
I'm now responsible for 2 generations of new humans.
Which also means I'm much older than I care to admit.
(but it's better than the only other alternative)
I can blog about both events, seeing as how they are happening at the same time.
Grandparenting and growing older.
New Blog!
And then....
A decision was made in my brain, that, like the cartoons I watch to destress, unwind and laugh with that I should get hit by a falling anvil while chasing a roadrunner.
Just kidding, the decision was for my blog to be the cartoon of my blog kingdom.
Life with laughter.
Stories with silliness.
Maybe it's my age and the preponderance of so many things unknown and unprovable that I can't seem to take anything, or at least very little, seriously.
My blog is a verbal cartoon of my world.
My hope is that you will chuckle with me now and then as we get through this life.
As my profile says..."I know I can do it if I'm laughing".


Thanks for being here.



Watermelon Vacillation....

Books.....

Books are very important to my family.
So much so that there are only very rare occasions when someone in the family is without a book of some kind.
We read them, listen to them, talk about them, pre-order them, share them, compare the books to the movie, read them again and rarely part with the good ones.
A good book salvaged at a thrift store is a major find to us.
The lively hood of this family even centers around a book.
We all love books and want our family's new addition to share this book joy.
So this happened....


Jeplen reads with Grandpa.


Eva wants to join in on the Story Time.


Baxter arrives late but loves a good story.

There you have it.
Toooo cute.
Another peak into my strange and marvelous world.
That book was read approximately 7 or 10 times in one sitting.
You are actually reading an online quasi-book right now!
There are all kinds of books.
Heart.

Thanks for being here.