Thursday, April 28, 2011

FUNNY THING ABOUT THINGS

While being the chamber director and beginning the windmill park, I took advantage of being the one to order samples for the brick pavers and tiles to be placed on the memory fence.

This little paver has been at 1107 since 2002.  There was really no place for it.  I had a few bricks missing on the front planter, but often I would find this brick on the sidewalk, in the yard, here and there and everywhere...

except set in concrete.

Today...this little old brick is set forever..in the chimney to the pizza oven where it will stay until somebody else outside the family buys this house...

except that will never happen.

So...this little brick is here forever.

hmmmm....that makes me think....I'll take a basil and tomato pizza!

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

THEY CALL IT COLE SLAW

At the risk of being redundant and using this photo again, I will, since that's what this blog is really all about.

Growing up on Townsend street, my bedroom was painted this color...with a canopy bed and toile curtains.

At Miss Collard's house, almost the entire house was painted this color and I never changed it.

At Miss Berry's...the bathroom.

At 1107, Mattie's room was painted "Cole Slaw".  She didn't really like it very much by the way. 

Perhaps she might have liked it better if the name would have been "Methodical"...which is what it is today. 

No kidding....the very nearly same color of green my entire life.

Like the old painter Smitty used to say when he painted the entire Bulls' Inn "Pistachio"...

"it's just easy on the eyes"

MY SISTER'S ROOM

Welcome to the guest room at the rock house, aka The Bird Room


It features a very old sleigh bed that hubby bought me before we married.
And my Granny Bea's chairs and drum table that have been a trio since before I was born.  They were gold velvet...now they have a lively floral print.
Original art by Amy Winton...oil pastel of redbuds in Lipscomb..my favorite tree
Original art by Marilyn Yanke...oil on canvas...above my mother's dresser
Beautiful stain glass windows in place of a door that made no sense
Most certainly a prayer candle and an angel or 12
Triple Down...down feather bed, cozy down comforter, fluffy down pillows...all in a crisp vintage white
Flowers to hold back the silk drapes
An iris collage made by my grandmother's talented and loving hands...she gave this to me many years ago and I adore it
A snail?  Of course!
A view?  Of course...no need to worry about peekers...just birds as this room in nestled in the pines
The Bird Girl...a great read!
and because my sister is my very best friend...a pillow that desribes her...she is a flower growing in the sunshine. 

I have 3 brothers and one younger sister.  When she was little she annoyed the heck out of me at times.  Mostly because she often dissapeared when it was time to do dishes or wanted to play Barbies with me and my friends.  One time I had a friend over and she cried to sleep with me.  So I let her...only I made her sleep on the floor beside the bed.  And she did.  And while I have forgiven myself for being such a meanie to her, I think about it sometimes and how those we love the most we treat the ugliest.

But in this house...this is her room.  It's my mother's room although she will never come visit, and it is most certainly my grandmother's room, but since she's in heaven...I just filled it with her things and know that she is alive in all that is there.

And lest you get too impressed with the soft and inviting ambiance of this room....take a look at the bathroom below that goes along with it.

YIKES!  Not to worry though...I have big plans for it too!  Soon I hope!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

CINNAMON ROY


b. Apr 21, 1923, Donley County, Texas
d. Oct 14, 1998, Borger, Hutchinson County, Texas, age: 75
 
Meet Cinnamon Roy. 
 
Today would have been his 88th birthday. 
I miss him and think of him every day of my life.
 
The lessons he taught me with his iron hand and loud voice...hard to imagine from this photo that he had either...stay with me.
 
"All it takes to tell the truth is a little bit a guts"
"Methodists don't believe in reincarnation..that's for heathens"
 
So my grandmother could pass on a prize lesson due to him..."you can tell the character of a man by the way he treats his mother"...evidently she was impressed.
 
One day we were all invited over for steaks.  When daddy cooked a steak..that was all that was on your plate...steak.  On this particular day, he must have been thinking of some rig far away and instead of sprinkling the steaks with pepper (no salt for us) he accidently grabbed the cinnamon and so became known and remembered by those who loved him..."Cinnamon Roy".
 
These memories to this day bring tears to my eyes.
 
I think he is sitting in heaven amused at me restoring the home my mother wanted in 1965, but refused to buy her because it needed too much work.
 
Here's to you daddy...I don't have a kitchen for steaks today, but I sure might sprinkle some cinnamon in my pondtini. 
 
I miss you and think of you every day of my life.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

BONAVENTURE WAY


Tonight I drift off to sleep listening to a historical documentary about John Muir.  The night breeze rustles my curtains.

He was a a nature man who walked across America in the late 1800s sketching  in his book as he traveled throughout the land.

This room in my old rock house is in his honor as I named it "the nature room" the minute I saw it.

It has vintage butterfly prints, old turtle shells, and a cross made with loving hands from bleached drift wood adorned with beads and silver from Peruvian Indians.

Along his walk, Muir spent a night in the Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah.

I was just there last week.

I wonder if we stood in the same place, amazed by the same grand moss draped oaks and melancholy marble angels.

I wonder if he ever imagined that his world would someday be brought to life to be shared across his beloved America...in a box...with sound...and photos?  Technology that broadcasts his marvelous writings and simple message of nature and beauty of his world...while someone like me...drifts off to sleep hearing the words he was compelled to pen. 

Eloquent words that connect me to him and us to the melancholy marble angels.
Somehow, I think he knew.

Friday, April 15, 2011

GRACE AND FELIX

Grace Maria Bransford Bulls
Felix M. Bransford circa 1885

She became a homesteader in Oklahoma and he became a prominent lawyer in Ft. Worth.

She...is my grandmother...he...I never knew.

She moved to Donley County via wagon and had 6 children, one of which was my father Roy Lynn Bulls.
I have her rocker, the one given to her by her father.  I painted it purple.  My dad told me one time that if I went to the trouble and expense to repair it, I could paint it whatever color I wanted.

In it, I rocked and nursed my own Grace Maria...and then rocked her daughter Betty Beatrice.

Family trees are the most fun trees of all to climb!

Thursday, April 14, 2011

OH HAPPY DAY

Today is somebody's birthday who is very dear to me.  A few memories I'd like to share.

I remember going to church with my family and marching down the isle with my very pregnant mother.  I was 10 and just about to cringe to death because I knew that everyone knew what she'd been doing.

I remember my sister dressing up in heels and makeup and carrying this poor child around with his head bobbing like a rag doll.

I remember him falling off the merry go round his very first day of school and having a knot bigger than a chicken egg.  He had to come home.

I remember a few months later he began to have seizures and my dad picked me up at an out of town football game and told me our little brother might have a tumor, or cancer, or something very bad.  It's the only time I ever saw him cry.

I remember when he was 14 and went to baseball camp and forgot to take his medicine and while my parents were on a trip, my sister and I had to take him to the hospital because he was having seizures.  We never left his side.

I remember after that he refused to take his medicine because he wanted to be normal.  This was at the risk of him not ever getting his driver's license.  He's never had a seizure since.

I remember when he got married and we danced the cha-cha at his Catholic Spanish wedding.

I remember 6 months later him walking out of the delivery room..huge smile...with a baby foot stamped on his hand.

I remember him telling me that you need to give to the people under the bridge and it's up to God to decide if they're ripping you off or not.  He just wants us to give.

And today...I remember that my family...my brothers, my sister, my mother, my children and most of all my hubby...are the ones I love the very very most.




And I'm pretty sure they love me back because I can do a very witty photo shop.  And to brother #2.  Sorry I forgot to blog on your birthday...I have some very good memories of you too...the above is one for sure!

Monday, April 11, 2011

SHOTGUN ON THE KARMA BUS

Once, not long ago I was in Mexico with my family.

We were in a quaint little hut right on the edge of the ocean and near the hammock was a very large seashell just resting on the porch.


I kind of wanted it and was willing to leave my beach towel in trade.

My soon to be almost daughter in law who is now my ex almost daughter in law said something very profound...

"You can't take that...it might give you bad Karma."

So I did it anyway.

I must admit...I have done things in my life both bad and good.  I hope the good outweighs the bad. 

You know what?  I'm certain that it has.

But reasoning on this level can be very tricky...we always want others to get what they deserve and don't often take into consideration what we deserve. 

Thank goodness I have been spared what I really deserve and thank goodness that in my own mind a beach towel at a hut on the edge of the ocean is much more valuable than some old seashell that washes up with the waves.

OPERATION CLANDESTINE BUZZARD RELOCATION: ACCOMPLISHED

Perhaps you may have noticed I have been M.I.A.

More on that later.

We thought we had cured our turkey vulture problem last fall by drastically chopping off their sunset roost.

Not so lucky.

When we returned from our week long trip, back they were and in a very big way. (view 47 in photo)

So big that an email circulated around FNB making a joke about hubby's car being covered with white poop.

These birds are protected.  More on that later.

Neighborhood conversation:

B:  ##(U%#@ there they are again..have you seen my car?

W McC:  I just saw some birds scatter and thought B must have his shotgun handy.
M:  He can't shoot them, they're protected!
B:  I don't want to shoot them...I want to shoo them and I can do that with a gun
G:  He really tried to shoo them wearing only his boxers?  That oughta work!
T(tipsy neighbor):  Your house is baaaaaaaaad Aaaaaa$$...no wonder you don't want them hanging around
B:  *#($&%% there they are again...I just washed my car!
B:  Fully clothed, claps very loudy...no gun involved.
B to G:  get in the car and let's go see where they went, I think they headed north.
B:  Why does that family think they can ride bikes all over the whole street?
G:  THERE THEY ARE!
G:  It's a good thing they're protected...they don't even know what a tree is.
B:  Nice to see our tree empty!