Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Button mushrooms: stuffed and topped with mango chutney--ready to bake
I felt a little like one of those people who looks down and realizes they have two different shoes on.
At least I haven’t done that yet.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Yesterday I was golfing with my husband and we had a discussion about ant beds after coming across one on the course. He told me when he was a kid, he would stomp in them, put firecrackers in them, pour gas in them, and fry the ants with his magnifying glass. And with his softer side he had a multitude of home made "ant farms"; various "ball" jars with holes poked in the top where he could watch the ants make their tunnels, feeding them, playing with them.
I asked him if he ever got stung by the ants and he said, “yes, when you mess with ants, that’s just part of it.”
The more I thought about it, I began realize that I too was curious about ant beds and so began my comparison to ant bed play and personality types.
My sister who is today’s drama queen would stand in the middle of an ant bed and when they began to crawl on her and sting her, she would scream bloody murder but remain standing in the middle of the action until someone came to rescue her. I’m pretty certain she did this more than once.
My older brother was much like my husband…find, destroy, and enjoy.
I on the other hand would be very curious about their tunnels under ground, could they swim, what did they eat, where were they going and why were they going so fast all in the same direction? Why are some red and some black and some big and some little?
My youngest brother would steer completely away from them knowing of the consequences that play would create…so back to my sister…why would someone stand in the middle of one and become frozen with fright? Her actions probably had something to do with the younger ones steering clear and thus the fact that others’ actions persuade us.
So, perhaps the quote “you are who you were when you were eight” could most certainly include “and the way you play with ants tells it all.”
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Why didn't I just dig it up when I knew it didn't belong there? And chunk it over the gosh dang fence?
Monday, June 15, 2009
hurry go get the matches!
Fupa: to be expected
Wrinkle cream budget: refriggindiculous
Cello lessons: humbling
19-year-old cello teacher: enchanting
Herb garden: heavenly
Laundry with no kids: time for herb gardens
Blowing bubbles with Betty: O Yea!
Nancy Grace: compelling
CNN: blah blah blah
Fall Trip Plans to Machu Picchu: wowsy
Spring Trip to my back yard: wowsier
8-minute sex against the wall: overrated
Drinking sauvignon blanc in a chair by the pond: underrated
Thought of dentures: scary as heck!
Flossing your real teeth: critical
Connecting with others: boring
Getting to know myself: exciting
Knight in Shining Armor: Jesus
View of life: relaxed
52 birthday candles instead of 25: most excellent!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
It was Communion Sunday and I had my two small children with me, which is probably when I began my routine of sitting in the back. I don't "need" to sit back there anymore, but the truth is, I like it back there. I like to see all the people in church sitting in front of me. I like to wonder how the sermon is speaking to them, what their prayers or needs are. I also like to say the Lord’s Prayer in my mind only, which allows me to hear the voices of those around me saying it out loud. I like the stain glass windows and the stories they tell. I like the “ hat lady section.”…where the grandmother widows sit together…the true chord of love and sweetness in our church that I hope to rise to the level of one day.
But back to that particular Sunday…Grace was 8 and Charles was 4…I was always trying to teach them manners, independence, and all the life lessons that you try to teach children. Charles was a bit bored and asked for permission to visit the men’s room and so I let him go “all by himself”. When he didn’t return for some time, I left the sanctuary to go check on him and finally found him in the kitchen.
Obviously for one of those covered dish luncheons we’re so famous for, or worse yet, a funeral.
I was a Baptist where my grandmother played the piano in Pleasant Valley, but I became a Methodist when my mother married my dad. My sister and I were baptized on Easter Sunday when I was 8 and she was 5. We wore matching dresses, hats, gloves, ruffled socks, and shiny white shoes…the Easter Works. We walked down the isle of the First United Methodist Church on Haney Street in Spearman, Texas, together. We knelt at the altar with our family, and we two little sisters gave our lives to Jesus.
The comfort that I feel can be expressed in the same way that my small son felt in the kitchen years ago…it is my sanctuary, it is my back pew, it is my isle, it is my church…I am a Methodist.
Yes, I have made many trips down that isle for many reasons. And while the trips are all worthy in themselves, there is so much more that defines them. You see, what I love about being a Methodist, is that you walk down that isle only two times that really matter…once as a sinner, and once back forgiven…
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
In your end-o….always remember that you have the ability to impress unforgettable things on people…why not make them fun?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Why is it that a woman, girl, babe, can walk in front of a mirror and see F.L.A.W.S.--yet a man with a beer belly, not enough hair on the head, too much in the nose, double chin, aging hands, and/or any stage of varying degrees of imperfection look into the same mirror and say “loookin’ goooooooood!”…and quite mean it?
To all my sistas who:
Have a bit of gray at the templeA little bit of cellulite on the thighsA laugh line or twoA butt that fell, or a A bust that went from 36 C to 32 long….
UNITE! Let’s don’t look in the mirror…let’s look at each other and say--
….and for those of you who are at your prime…well power to you GF…flaunt it while ya got it and catch up with us later. We’ll be waiting on you…we’re the ones with beautiful eyes and kind faces as we redefine sexy ….a tummy that pooches because we’ve born 1 or 3 kids, a lingering gaze--with creases--that rests upon the daughter of your daughter, and soul that runs deep enough to know what lookin’ good really means…deep enough…. to quite mean it!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Most years, my resolution was to quit. I don’t do it that much anymore because it’s important to me that I have better control of myself and let beauty grace my lips.
So, I came up with Dang 101, which simply put is to see how many ways can you say dang.
First of all, and most simply.
I challenge you. Let your mind get a little creative and give it a whirl.
DANG. Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang. Danguh. Hecky Dang. Dang It. Dangggggit. Gosh Dang. Gosh Darn Dang. Ding Dang. Well I’ll be dang. Well, I’ll JUST BE DANG. Whoooohoooodang. Dangahangadangdangdang. Dippity Dang. Dang Ya’ll. Frickin Dang. Dang a Mercy. And my favorite of all. Damn Dang. Oops!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I’m pretty sure I placed fifth in the HGTV home giveaway. That prize includes:
1. winner winner chicken dinner2. watching, live, from Florida….the person who won first3. and playing shopping at home game…see below
The economic climate looms over us all. I think for the most part, our country has enjoyed a plentiful season over the past years and the thought of an uncertain future is scary.
When I get a little blue and think I don’t have enough, there is a thing I do called “shopping at my house.” It goes something like this. Find your beginning point and work your way around the room you have selected and pretend you could have anything in the room you want as if you don’t.
Example: My purple living room.
I begin at the front door where Brian with his own two hands removed the partitions so that our friends could linger with their good-byes more comfortably. On to the antique china cabinet that I bought about 25 years ago for next to nothing in Guymon, Oklahoma--inside it are six lidded pumpkin bowls that I like to serve the first soup of the fall—my purple 100 year old rocker--next three large picture windows where I can see my great big pine tree sway in the wind--that now have quite a few little baby handprints where someone is waiting for someone to drive into the driveway-- one very large carved wooden angel Brian bought me for my birthday—my blue Herend rabbits with the droopy ears..one big one, two middle ones and one baby one--the chair that I bought from Coretta Ralston and had recovered in cheetah linen--an oil on canvas called “The Director’s Chair” that was given to me by my friend Debbie Hagerman because I told her I liked it—a large pedestal that we bought at an auction for a dollar that has a vase of flowers in front of a mirror--my large, cushy, ruby red lipstick couch!!!!--the small spot on my border that was left by what I thought was a very large miller that turned out to be a bat that Trent took to show and tell--the grandfather clock that will someday belong to Charles--the glass curio cabinet my mother bought Grace when she was born currently filled with our collection of sextants, compasses, and kaleidoscopes--the large wooden giraffe Brian traded for soap while he was in Africa—a picture of leaves from our trip to New England to celebrate our five years of marriage--the water color painted by Koko the Gorilla that looks like a pink heart that was my gift to Brian one Valentine Day--my cello resting on his piano. And probably my favorite thing of all…the paint by number picture of Brian and me that I cut in half one sad day. If you look closely, you can see barely see the gray tape on the backside holding it together. We all know how strong that gray tape is.
So you get the idea…don’t spend your time sitting and wishing and hoping for things and stuff. Go on a journey around your own house and take a moment to remember how much you wanted all the stuff you already have before you got it. It’s a big fat lie that you can have it all, but it’s a big fat truth that you can have a lot!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
You have messed around where you shouldn’t be messing…in my computer and I imagine from some place very far away..maybe India.
It took me a week or so to realize it was you. At first I thought I just had a sniffle from all the forwards and surveys about “me in one word” my peep Paula sends me all the time. And then strange things began to happen. A different look on my monitor. My documents disappearing while I was gone to town. My whole system shutting down. Why, there was even one day that my TV channel changed by itself. Did you do that too?
I just want you to know that what goes around comes around Mr. SP. Believe me…if I know anything I know that! And I may not be the one to give you what you have coming, life’s not fair that way…but someone will.
You might have a flat tire in the snow and no one will stop…or a mouse poop in your green curry chicken….or someone might get your credit card number from your dumpster and when you go to pay for that sexy pleather jacket, you will be declined in front of a long line of cute girls...or you may be doing the SNL walk all over the mall and be so sure everyone is looking at you because you're so cute and check yourself in the mirror only to find the reason they are looking is because one lense is out of your cool sunglasses. Count on it. You will live the frustration you have given me. And I’m ok that I don’t get to see it because I know it will happen.
I sit here smug as a bug in a rug at my newly secured PC and smile thinking about how you will get what you got coming Mr. Smarty Pants.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I am an entrepreneur and I have done a lot of things. I have raised ostrich, I have sold exotic animals via worldwide satellite, I have owned and operated a bed and breakfast, I have owned an art gallery and offered the fine world of art to my tiny town, and several other entrepreneurial things…but you know? This is the best!
I love to write and while I do possess fundamental skills on how a person should write and talk, the best thing I have going for me is my imagination.
I want what is written in my HPOs to do some good in the world of the people who read it. Plant the right kind of tree for our zone, catch a criminal, get a stray dog adopted into a loving home, give some folks a laugh….you know…be accomplished.
I have that fortune taped to my monitor and I read it every day. I’m glad that my kookiness has paid off and that I can consider myself “accomplished” simply because I have a fortune that tells me so…every day.
And just so you’ll know…when the flowers bloom there will be great joy in my life. Oh good.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
My experienced friends told me that when she came home for the holidays I would be glad when she left and I just politely smiled and said no way…NO!WAY! Her Christmas break was 40 days. Lent is 40 days. Jesus was tempted 40 days…why do all tests seem to be 40 days?
She left Friday and I am caught somewhere in the middle of glad and sad.
After tripping over her laundry that she has left in a pile for me to do; after getting the gripe out for getting up early to exercise, dress, and begin my day too loudly and before noon; after the 18 year old routine that I have lived without for 5 months…yep…it’s time for her to go.
I’m not sad about her leaving, I’m sad about the fact that things have really and permanently changed. This will never really be her home again, at least not in the same way. That unsettled feeling, not ready to stay, but nowhere really to go. That change is just one of those things in life you never really get quite prepared for…they slip up on you even though they’re glaring with a red blinking sign…curve up ahead. Sentimental sadness for the way things were because they were so very good and scary excitement for life ahead because of the potential for all it will be.
Life is good like that.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I stood beside her at the Tarrant County Courthouse while the judge dissolved her marriage with the tap of his gavel. I went with her to her house to get a few things to come stay with me for a day or two after. I wrote on Fred’s mirror in her red lipstick the following words: “Losing you as a brother is truly one of the saddest days of my life.” We left.
Tracy met Tim and they have Claire and Mary and Eleanor and Joseph.
Life is like the Tilt-a-Whirl…you stand in line to ride. You do your level best to lean a certain way to make the ride spin fast enough to take your breath away. The out of control motion scares you half to death. You laugh but sometimes it spins so fast it makes you sick. It’s over. You tumble out and if you are brave, you rush down the ramp and stand in line to ride it again.
The Tilt-a-Whirl is my favorite ride.