Florida Bites

We ended up not having time to drive over to the beach while I was in Florida. Nor did we go to Disney World. As we were riding the airport shuttle today, on our way out, a recorded announcement said, "Chances are, you didn't see and do everything there is to do while you were here..." My co-worker and I had to laugh. Yeah, we didn't see or do very much at all except work. However, we stayed at a very nice resort, and the convention was at yet another nice resort, so there were a few photo ops.

I arrived on Wednesday afternoon and "had" to wait at the airport a couple hours before going to the condo. As you can see, waiting at the airport was a real hardship for me. I staked out one of the benches by this gorgeous fountain and read through several of the Psalms while I was waiting. It was a unique place to have devotions. I needed some alone time that time, so that served the need nicely.

Late that evening, after we had loaded and unloaded some of the convention supplies and taken care of grocery shopping for the weekend, one of my co-workers, Sherry, and I explored the resort a little bit. We were tickled to discover that the smoking area was called the Cigar Deck. So pretentious! No one was smoking cigars (or anything else), and it was actually a very nice deck overlooking the lake.

Another thing that cracked us up was the Sensory Garden, which was a nicely landscaped, short garden path. Sherry struck a yoga pose long enough for me to take a picture. I'm not sure she got the full sensory effect in that length of time, but we aren't real sure what that was supposed to be anyway.

The convention was busy. We worked long hours and talked to lots of people. 

It was held at the Gaylord Palms resort, which has alligators in the atrium. They weren't in the wild, and they weren't very big, but still, it was cool to see them. There were turtles in with them.

On Saturday evening my cousin, Kerry, who lives there, came over to see me. We went out for a quick dinner. It was fun to see her again. It had been several years. We were too busy talking and catching up to think about taking pictures.

And that was the extent of my adventure in Florida this past weekend. I've been to Florida twice now, and have yet to see the Atlantic Ocean. 

Someday we'll go back for a vacation. At least, it's on my bucket list.

Have Lemon, Will Travel

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Random Goofiness

Sometimes everyday things just strike me funny. I can hardly bear it if no one's with me to appreciate the humor. Here are a few goofy things I noticed recently:

There's a directional sign near our City Hall pointing to our "sister city" (Herrborn, Germany) 4,908 miles away.

I first found out about our "sister city" a few years ago at a city-sponsored Christmas program that my kids participated in. The mayor read a letter from the mayor of Herrborn wishing us a happy holiday season. At the time I couldn't figure out why we had a sister city or why it was Herrborn. Later, I found out that Herrborn is where the founder of Post Falls, Frederick Post, was born. So that explains that.

It still cracks me up that we have a road sign pointing far away across the continent and then across the ocean. Like anyone driving around Post Falls City Hall will need to know how to get to Herrborn.

I know. That's not the purpose of it, but it makes me chuckle.

***

This book display in the local grocery store made me look twice. See how the cowboy's bride in Over the Edge is behind him on the left? The beaming bride on the next book, Loving, is clinging to her groom's shoulder, but it sure looks like it's the guy from Over the Edge, doesn't it?

I wonder what the cashier thought as I snapped a picture with my phone.

***

And then sometimes I overhear conversations that make me laugh to myself--

Overheard on an airplane as someone was trying to squeeze by someone else in the aisle:
"Some of us are a little larger than most skinnier people."

***

Overheard in the shoe store in the next aisle over:
"Oh, excuse me. I thought you were my daughter. But you're not."
Girl's voice: "No." {polite chuckle} "I'm my mom's daughter!"

***

I think this counts as a Friday Fragments post,
so I'm going to join up with Mrs. 4444 at
Half-Past Kissin' Time!

Just another shade of greige...

Ask me to describe a vehicle and I'm likely to say something like "the blue car" or "the red pickup." Lyle, on the other hand, can identify at a glance the make and model of practically anything on the road, and often the year. Our girls are pretty good at it, too, having picked it up from their dad. I just don't pay that much attention. And with all the neutral shades-- grays and beiges-- so popular right now, "the greige rig" works for me! ("Rig" is the generic term in our part of the country for any vehicle.)

You need that background for the story I'm about to tell.

I had reserved a mini-van for my convention this weekend, as I needed a way to transport my display materials from my hotel where they were shipped, to the convention venue. I took the shuttle from the airport to the car rental place. I got all the paperwork taken car of and the girl behind the counter handed me the keys. "It's the gold Dodge Caravan out the door to my left," she said.

So I went out the door to her left, expecting to find a gold mini-van waiting for me. Um. No. Apparently, they don't pull your car up to the door for you at this rental place. There was a whole parking lot full of vehicles. What does a Dodge Caravan look like? I wondered. It's a mini-van, anyway. I know that much. The problem is, some mini-vans look like small SUVs. Well, it's gold. I can surely find a gold mini-van. I knew the vehicle with the Toyota logo wouldn't be it. (Having owned Toyotas for years, I do recognize their logo.) So I casually strolled along the rows of cars trying to identify one that could be a Dodge in some shade of gold.

A-ha! There was one labeled "Dodge Caravan" right across the back. And yeah, I suppose that could be called gold. So I walked up to it and clicked my key to unlock the door. Nothin'. Hmmm. I compared the number on my paperwork to the number on the windshield. Nope. Not it after all.

Where could it be?

By this time, I'm afraid my "casual stroll" had evolved more of a "lost wanderer" effect. About then, a guy who worked at the rental place came along. "Are you having trouble?" he asked.

I had to admit it. "Um. Yeah. I don't know makes and models very well, and I can't find the car I've rented."

He looked at my paperwork, and then asked for the key. He clicked the panic button and immediately another "gold" Dodge Caravan (that I had already walked right past) started honking.

I was chagrined. "I don't know why I didn't think of that," I said as I thanked him.

But I ask you. Would you call the car pictured above "gold"?

To me, it's just another shade of greige.

Malapropisms

I love unintentional malapropisms. They make me smile.

My youngest daughter, who has auditory processing delays, uses them quite frequently... but she gets a little frustrated when we ask her to repeat what she said because we aren't sure we heard it right. That clues her in that she used the wrong word, so she'll usually just "Hmph! Never mind!"

Her latest one that I especially enjoyed was when she told me Sunday that she has two "Timothy sets" that we can get out and display at Christmas time. I was a little puzzled until she explained further that a Timothy set has a Baby Jesus... and Mary... and Joseph. (Though there's a problem with Joseph's staff. It won't stay in his hand.) Nativity set! Of course. Yes, that does sound a little bit like Timothy!

Yesterday at co-op I was helping in a class where the teacher was demonstrating some optical illusions. The little girls in the class were very impressed. "It's an optical delusion!" exclaimed one.

Don'tcha love it?

Walking Pays Off

 It is approximately two miles from our house to the print shop where my husband works. One afternoon about 3 weeks ago, I decided to walk to the shop for exercise, and then ride home with Lyle. For someone as out-of-shape as I am, two miles is a "fur piece"... but I made it.

The next day I decided to try it again. It was more fun to have a destination in mind... especially with that handsome-man-of-mine waiting at the end... than just aimlessly walking around the neighborhood. And the second day was easier than the first day.

So I've been walking the two miles every weekday since. I have to admit it's not the most scenic route in our area, but there are interesting things to see along the way. The gorgeous Indian Summer weather we've been having has made it great.

And... I've discovered that it's actually a paying proposition! Yes, it is! Did you know that people leave money laying around on the sidewalks just for the taking? They do! Actual cash money!

I've garnered a grand total of 3 cents so far! I'm gonna keep watching, too, because my Daddy always told me if I picked up enough pennies I would eventually be a millionaire! (Just let me know if you need a loan, Dad.)

Anchovies

Laura has a wacky sense of humor. I can't imagine where she gets it.

One day last week when I was at the print shop she called me from home. "Mom, when you were at the grocery store earlier, did you happen to get... anchovies?"

Say what? I had never bought, or even tasted, anchovies before in my life. I had tasted caviar, once, many years ago. Anchovies, never.

"Um. Yeah. Of course. I make sure we're always stocked up on anchovies," I told her, wondering what she really wanted.

She giggled and said, "I was really wondering about jalepenos. I want to make a dip and it calls for jalepenos. I don't think we have any."

I was planning to stop at the store anyway, so I told her I would add jalepenos to my list. Lyle was with me, so I repeated the conversation to him. "I've always wondered what anchovies taste like. If they aren't too expensive I think I'll get some just for a joke... since she asked for them!"

Turns out they were $1.78 for this little tin, which is not exactly tuna-fish price, but still cheap enough to try something new and get a laugh out of the deal.

I gathered up the rest of my groceries, and as I was checking out the cashier asked what I was planning to make. I tried to explain that my daughter had asked for the anchovies, but I was really getting them for a joke. She looked at me like I was crazy. "Oh, she's going to make something with them?" she kinda mumbled, and then didn't make eye contact with me any more. I'm sure she thought I belonged in the loony bin or something.

I carried the groceries out to the car, and gleefully showed my pretty little box to Lyle. He doesn't care for any kind of fish in any way, shape, or form, so there was no way he planned to try them. He just had one question for me.

"Did you get the jalepenos?"

Um.

I couldn't believe it. I had totally forgotten the jalepenos. And they were on my list.

When I got home and presented Laura with the tin of anchovies, she looked a little startled.

"You do know that was a joke, right?" she asked. I can't figure out why everyone thought I was crazy.

So I told her the story of why I decided to buy them. Once she understood she thought it was pretty funny. And she was curious to taste the anchovies, too.

We pulled the top off the little tin to find them floating grotesquely in olive oil. Can't say they looked all that appetizing. At least it wasn't fish oil.

I drained the oil off, and patted one of the little fillets dry with a paper towel, then popped a small piece in my mouth.

Salt.

That's pretty much all I tasted. Just super salty, and not all that fishy.

I had the rest later on crackers with cream cheese. It wasn't nasty, but it was way too salty to be much of a delicacy.

That may come from buying the cheap brand, though. I don't know.

Have you ever tried anchovies? What is your opinion?

Yeah, It's a Blanket!

I crocheted this afghan for one of my nieces for her graduation this spring. I got the idea from Natasha Marie who shared that she got the pattern from the Crochet World magazine site. I loved the way the rows of color look like little hearts. I made my own modifications by choosing black for my main color, rather than off-white, and crocheting a shell edging all around instead of a fringe on the ends. I though it turned out pretty.

Funny story: I had it wrapped and ready to deliver to my niece. My daughter asked what was in the package. I reminded her that it was "the afghan I've been working on for Missy."

"Oh!" she said. "I thought you were making her a blanket!"

Changing Seasons

 Summer got off to a late start in our part of the country. It was cool all through July, and was well into August before we had any hot weather to speak of. Obligingly, though, summer is lingering later than usual. We're continuing to have hot weather well into September.

In spite of the daytime temperatures, fall is definitely in the air. Our first clue was the Canadian soccer tournament that took place in the soccer field across the street about 3 weeks ago. I had no idea that the Canadian Geese enjoyed soccer, but they spent several days with us on their way south. We never did see them actually kicking a soccer ball, but I ask you: What else would they be doing over there all that time? Becky enjoyed snapping several pictures, so the photo credit goes to her for this post.

Dark comes earlier these days. Harvest scents are in the air. My mums are budding. Our school year routine is "falling" into place. It's obvious that fall will officially arrive next week.

I'm reminded of something my Granddaddy said in an old letter I came across recently:

Days come and go, years pass so hurriedly: but God is the same and we are happy in Him.
--Gordon Easley, September 16, 1964

Not in the Market

What with Laura being gone for most of the summer and Becky missing her big sister, we have used up our allotted cell phone minutes for the month. So when my phone rang this afternoon I checked Caller I.D. to see who was calling. It wasn't anyone on my contact list but it was a local number. I decided to let it go to voice mail, thinking whoever-it-was would leave a message and I could call them back. A few minutes later I got an email from my friend, Anna, asking about a book. I replied and asked her if she had just tried calling me, explaining why I didn't take the call.

"Yes, that was me," she said. "Next time I'll leave a message." I entered her number on my contact list so I would know it was her.

Half an hour or so later the phone rang again. It was a local number again, but not Anna's. Maybe she's calling from a different phone this time, I thought. Well, she said she'd leave a message, so I'll wait and see.

Sure enough, in a few minutes the voice mail alert tinkled at me. I dialed in to listen, fulling expecting it to be Anna. Instead, it was a man's voice.

"Um. Hello. I think I got the wrong number. I'm calling Bill Barry, but I got Karla. God bless you. Have a nice life. This is Joe."

Please tell me. If you dialed the wrong number, would you leave a message? Why wouldn't you just hang up before the beep?

I betcha Joe is my secret admirer. He called back a little later, but didn't leave a message the second time. I guess he was just devastated that I didn't answer or return his call. I've been noticing ads on my Pandora account assuring me there are nice single men in my area (in the 50+ age range!) who want to meet me. The stock photos of models in the ads would lead one to believe that all these handsome men live right in my neighborhood! One of them is Joe, probably.

I guess Joe (and Pandora) didn't get the memo that I am blissfully married. I'm perfectly happy with the real man who faithfully brings home the bacon and adores me. (Not to mention that he's still in the under 50 age range!)

Sorry, Joe.

Sue Ellen's Girl - Review

"Where are you from?" he asked as he scanned my groceries at the local WalMart.
"Why, I live here in Post Falls," I answered innocently, even though I knew what he was getting at. In spite of having lived in Idaho for 13 years, and Kansas for 12+ years before that, people seem to think I still have a southern accent. I don't hear it myself.

"No, I mean, where are you from originally?" See? I knew that's what he meant.

"Oh! You mean my accent? It's mostly from Louisiana and Arkansas." I never know what to say since I lived in several different states growing up, due to Dad being a pastor and changing churches every few years.

"I thought so!" he said smugly. "Did you eat a lot of barbecue growing up?" Now, that one, I admit, caught me off guard. I had never been asked that before.

"Um. No. Not really. Why?" Beans-and-cornbread was on our menu far more often than barbecue.

"Oh, I had a mission in North Carolina and it seemed like they had a lot of barbecue in that part of the country. And people would tell you 'God bless' and things like that way more than they do around here. People get offended if you do that here."

"That's true," I allowed. "We're definitely not in the Bible Belt."

He finished bagging my groceries and said, "Have a nice day!"

"You, too!" I told him. "And God bless!"

"Definitely!" he said.

***

Several years ago I subscribed to an e-zine called All Things Southern which was  published by a very funny "southern belle" named Shellie Rushing Tomlinson. She would get why the above scenario (which happens more frequently than I would expect) strikes my funny-bone. Recently, when her new book Sue Ellen's Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy came up for review I was happy to have the opportunity to read it. It's supposedly a self-help book, but Shellie admits that it's actually "short on the self-help, and long on the commiseration." My favorite chapter was the one on "Bubba Whispering" (i.e. understanding and relating to your man). I can't say I actually learned anything from it, but I sure did laugh! And I had to read certain sections out loud to my own "Bubba-wannabe" who loves being married to a "southern belle" but isn't always sure what to think of me!

Other chapters cover health and fitness, how to tell the difference between "normal crazy" and "straight running crazy," time management, manners, and even politics and economics! In addition there are dozens of wonderful southern recipes. There's one for Bodacious Black Bean Salad that I bookmarked to try soon. This is just an all-around fun book!

Lum and Abner comic strip

Way back in the dark ages--clear back in 1970, probably--I remember my uncles attentively listening to radio show called Lum and Abner. I was too young to pay much attention to it at that time. I had no idea that they were actually listening to re-runs from 30 or so years earlier. Several years later I happened across the show and became a fan myself. I think I was about 14 at the time. My opportunity to listen to the show was pretty hit-or-miss until the advent of the internet, which is kind of ironic when you think about it--an old-time radio show from the 1930s and '40s finally becoming widely accessible due to modern technology. A few years ago I even put together a web page as a tribute to the "old fellers." If you're not familiar with these characters, let me direct you there for more information. If you enjoy "down-home" humor, I expect you'll like it.

Earlier this week I was excited to learn that Donnie Pitchford, the president of the National Lum and Abner Society, has produced a comic strip based on the radio show that he hopes to run as a regular feature in the First Arkansas News. He is currently in the "looking for sponsors" stage. I hope he makes it. I was very impressed with the first comic strip and would love to see more. What fun!

Might be spicy!

People are funny sometimes. Not that they mean to be. They just are.

I picked up a bag of the new "Artisan" chips from Tostitos at the grocery store earlier this week. Black bean and garlic flavored, as I recall.

As I was checking out, the cashier commented on them. "Have you had these before? They look good!"

I admitted I had not had them before, but I thought they looked good as well.

She said, "I've been meaning to get some, but by the time I get off work I forget about them. But they sure look good! Does that 'artisan' mean they're spicy?"

After gulping back a chuckle, as politely as I could I said, "Um, well, actually, I think that means they are hand-made or something like that."

"Oh," she said. "Well, they sure look good!"

But who knows? Maybe "artisan" is a new spice I hadn't heard of before!

Security Risk

Yesterday I lied about my age. I surely didn't intend to. I honestly forgot how old I am. So when the doctor asked, I just immediately said, "43," and we continued our conversation. On the way home I realized that I am actually 44. I must have been 43 the last time I thought about it. Which would have been sometime before last November. I thought about calling the doctor back to confess, but I decided that my actual birthdate on my chart was probably sufficient in the way of restitution.

Not only am I a liar, though, it seems I'm a shoplifting suspect at Wal-Mart as well. Last Saturday evening Lyle and I made a quick Wal-Mart run. The little slidey-thing on the side of the memory card for the camera had broken off, so we needed to get a new one before our 4th of July adventure, as well as picnic supplies. As we went in the store I said, "Now don't let me forget to pay for ice when we check out." Naturally we both forgot, but I did remember just as we finished paying, so I just paid in a separate transaction. Lyle went ahead and pushed the cart on out of the aisle and waited for me by the ice box. Then we took our 2 bags of ice and other shopping bags and headed out of the store.

We didn't get very far because the security buzzers went off as we went through, and the friendly greeter person asked to see our receipts. That's when I remembered that I hadn't bothered to wait for my receipt on the ice. I asked if ice would set of the buzzers. She said, "It might!" so I went back to the cashier and asked for my receipt. Told her I got stopped at the door. She laughed and gave me the receipt. And so we got the go-ahead to legitimately leave the store. I'm sure the greeter person thought we were trying to get by without paying for the ice, and that I just paid for it when I went back to ask for my receipt.

After I thought about it, I was pretty sure it couldn't have been the ice that set off the security buzzers. You always just grab the ice out of the ice box on your way out the door. There's nothing that deactivates a security device. Then I remembered the memory card. Sure enough, there was one of those tiny little whatchamacallits that the cashier is supposed swipe over the clunker thingy when you check out. That had to be it.

I think.

I'm not really sure.

Because yesterday the same thing happened to me. I ran in Wal-Mart to pick up a DVD set we had ordered through their website. Went to the back counter to pick up my order. Then picked up some other merchandise, and this time I remembered before I paid that we needed ice again. I checked out, picked up my ice, and got stopped by the rude buzzer at the door again! The greeter lady recognized the Site-to-Store wrapper and asked if it was a DVD. Then she just made a note on her clipboard and sent me on my way.

Apparently they don't deactivate the security gizmo at the Site-to-Store counter.

Unless it really was the ice.

Run that by me again?

Becky has taken an interest lately in collecting and trying to identify rocks. So far, she knows quartz when she sees it. She found the above specimen on a hike we went on earlier in the summer.

Yesterday she came in with a sparkly rock that belongs to the little neighbor girl. She was very impressed with the beauty of it and wondered what kind of rock it was. I didn't know, so she wandered back out.

A few minutes later she came charging back in, fairly bristling with excitement. "Mom! I need to call Grammy!"

I could tell it was something very urgent, but I still had to ask. "Why do you need to call Grammy?"

"Well, you remember the box of rocks you got for PaPa that time? She can look at that green rock in it and tell me what kind it is. That's the same kind as this one!"

The neighbor girl's rock was not green... but, "Okay. Call Grammy." And off she went.

Soon she returned with my cell phone, perfectly satisfied. "Grammy was a big help! It's a cardayvoo!"

Now, I admit, I don't know much about rocks, but I didn't remember ever hearing of... "a what?!?"

"A cardayvoo! I think that means crystal!"

All righty then.

And back out she went to spread the good news. The rock had been identified!

I immediately called my parents. Dad answered the phone. I could tell he had it on speaker phone for Mother's benefit. The first words out of my mouth were, "Are y'all laughing?"

Were they laughing? They were laughing so hard they could hardly talk.

Mother said there were about 3 green rocks in the box so she didn't know which one Becky meant. "Is it the green one with the gold sparkles in it?"

"Yeah! That's the one!"

"Well, that's an amethyst."

"Okay. Thank you! Good-bye."

How she got "cardayvoo" out of "amethyst" we'll never know!

She does have auditory processing issues so often says things in a funny way... but this was one of the funniest! What makes it even funnier... the neighbor girl's rock is white, not green. And it's definitely not an amethyst. Who knows? Maybe it is a "cardayvoo"!

And To Think That I Saw It...

I recently came across a fun Wednesday meme at Muum's Musings where she features weird things she sees at WM. (You know... the big box store? Not sure why it's a secret... but since she whispers about it, we will, too.) I don't know if anyone else participates in her Wednesday meme with her, but they should. Because if you're going to see something weird, chances are, that's where it will be!

I don't have pictures (for obvious reasons) but I once saw a bride and groom shopping in their formal wedding attire. I didn't stare... but I did do a double-take. Why would you go shopping in your wedding gown?

Another time I saw a little kid with a pair of pantyhose on his head, pulled down over his ears like a cap, with the legs knotted together and dangling down his back. You just gotta wonder. Who would let their kid go out like that?

Since we have joined the ranks of RVers we have come to appreciate WalMart's policy (whoops! Iwasn't s'posed to say WalMart!) of allowing campers to spend the night in the parking lot. But I have to say, this one just really caught my eye earlier this spring:
I had the camera in the car, so I made my husband drive closer so I could take a picture. (Sorry about the pickup in the way. This was the best shot I could get surreptitiously.) What I really wanted to do was get out and walk around it and read all the epithets so carefully painted on every available inch of the brightly colored bus. But I didn't.

The ones I could read from where we were had such inspiring messages as "Repent or burn!" or various obscure scriptures taken out of context. I had hoped to be able to enlarge the picture and read more of them after I got home, but I wasn't quite close enough for my camera to pick up that detail.

I have a morbid fascination for weird things like this. I suppose that's what the owner of the bus is going for. Draw attention to the bus to convert people to his brand of religion. (Not quite sure what that is.)

The sad thing, that my husband and I remarked on, is that many non-Christians will probably see the wacky bus and think that all Christians are a bunch of kooks!

Say what???

Sometimes I think my husband just dares me to blog about certain things... such as a couple of weeks ago when we passed this sign while driving down the freeway...

First of all... am I the only one who had never heard of "green manure"? I mean, no, I didn't grow up on a farm, but I do consider myself a country girl, so you would think I would have at least heard of such a thing! Well, I hadn't.

Anyway, we were tootling along I-90 through the boring farm country of eastern Washington heading towards Seattle, when we passed a sign that said something like, "Crop signs in the fence row. Next 14 miles."

"Okay!" I said, just to break the monotony. "Let's see how many different crops we can see for the next 14 miles. We'll keep track to see who spots the most different ones."

So we started watching... "Wheat... Potatoes... Field Corn... Sweet Corn..." I read them off from my side of the road.

All of a sudden my husband and oldest daughter started laughing. "That sign said 'Green Manure'!!" they insisted.

"No way!" I was sure they had mis-read it. After all, who ever heard of "green manure"? And even if there was such a thing (I was imagining something really nasty that is best left unmentioned... after all, I do know what cow manure is!), why in the wide world would it be listed on a crop sign?

"That's what it said!" They were equally insistent. Then they saw it again! "Right there! It really says 'green manure'!" Of course I missed it and still didn't believe them.

The 14 miles passed by and we saw no more signs to prove or disprove their reading abilities. But... a few days later we returned home by the same route. This time my husband deliberately slowed down and carefully watched. "Look!! See? That sign says 'GREEN MANURE'!!"

Would you believe? Sure enough! It did say that. I saw it with my own eyes. And I'm a good reader!

My husband was satisfied that he was right. "I can't wait to see what you blog about this!" he said. (He actually expected me to show my ignorance for the whole world to see and snicker at!)

But I admit... I was completely baffled. What is green manure?? Well, I may be ignorant, but I know where to go for the answers! I Googled it as soon as I got home... and there it is, right there on Wikipedia in black and white... or should I say "green" and white?

"In agriculture, a green manure is a type of cover crop grown primarily to add nutrients and organic matter to the soil. Typically, a green manure crop is grown for a specific period, and then plowed under and incorporated into the soil."

I just love Google and Wikipedia, don't you? You can find out about practically anything with a few strokes of the keyboard!

But... green manure??? Who knew?? At least it's not something nasty!

Are you snickering at me?

So that explains it!

I love getting mail, don't you? Good mail, that is. Letters and packages. Here's something I received in the mail last week that just made my day! My dear friend, Farrah, sent me this whimsical "Laini's Lady" ornament. She has on a red polka-dot dress, a satin ribbon sash, bead "shoes" and is expressing such exuberance! But read that quote: "She is too fond of books, and it has addled her brain. -Louisa May Alcott"!! Does that describe anybody you know? I can't imagine who!

It makes me smile every time I look at it. I had to hang it on my desk for now, just so I could admire it. Thanks so much, Farrah! I just love it!

Cougars in the Woods

A couple of school boys, probably about 10 or 12 years old, were walking past our house a few minutes ago when I let the dog out. She ran out to chase them and it startled them, so I ran after her. I assured the little boys that the dog wouldn't hurt them, and she backed off with her tail between her legs like the timid little critter she is. The boys were relieved that the dog wasn't going to attack them, but they asked me, "Are there any cougars in the woods back there?"

Since we live in town and the said woods are only about an acre in size I told them, "No. I don't think so. I've never seen or heard of any."

They were utterly convinced that the woods are inhabited by cougars because, "We saw their tracks." They were serious.

No doubt they expected me to freak out and run screaming back to the house, letting the "big strong men" protect the women and children from large invading wild cats. "I think you probably saw kitty-cat tracks," I told them.

"No!" They were sure there were much bigger cats lurking. "The tracks were this big!" And they held up their hands to indicate tracks the size of saucers.

"Oh, yes," I said. "But, see, when the snow starts melting it makes the tracks look bigger than they really are."

Yeah, they had to admit I was probably right. Guess I shouldn't have spoiled their adventure, huh? What a story they had to tell all their friends, until some boring ol' mom came out and explained all the excitement away.

The picture is one I took of our cat's tracks in the snow back in January, when the snow was fresh. I was out taking pictures of it and Tabitha was stalking me. I thought her little cat tracks in the snow were so cute, that I snapped a picture of them. I haven't been out to the woods to investigate the alleged cougar tracks.

The White Sisters

I've been having so much fun helping Rachel get her blog up and running the past few weeks. For those of you who missed it, she is my aunt... but she's only a few months older than I am... so we grew up "together". Yesterday when we were visiting on the phone we were laughing about some of the silly things we used to do as kids. Good memories! I was telling her that I had participated in NaNoWriMo in November, but instead of writing an actual novel I wrote my memoirs. No, I didn't make it to 50,000 words... but I did get to about 35,000 which I thought was pretty good for my first attempt at anything close to book length. I haven't done anything with it yet... not sure that ever will beyond sharing it with my kids, but I thought I'd share this one little snippet with my blog readers... This is especially for Rachel, Dori, and Naomi, and my parents. Enjoy!

One time, when I was about 7 or 8, Rachel and we girls played a funny game of Let’s Pretend. It wasn’t funny to us then… just fun! …but as I got older and remembered the incident I had to laugh.

We were The White Sisters! This was an actual trio of sisters (with beautiful voices and close harmony) who had made some records in the 1950s or maybe early 1960’s. There were 2 or 3 of their records at Grandmother’s house and we were fascinated to read on the record jacket that their names were Joyce and Fay and I don’t remember what the other sister’s name was. Janet, maybe. But two of them were twins and the other was their older sister, just like us! So we were pretending to be The White Sisters… but with Rachel, there were four of us, so we decided Rachel could be the mother and she could play the accordion for us.

Because, of course, you couldn’t have special music without an accordion!

We believed this to be so because our church worshiped in the local old-country-school-house-turned-community building. Granddaddy had started the church just a few years earlier and the congregation would not have their own building for another 10 or 12 years. The community building did not boast of a piano or organ, so our next oldest aunt--who was in high school at the time--played an accordion to accompany any singing, both congregational and special songs.

So. Rachel began to look around in the yard for something that could serve as her accordion in our debut as The White Sisters. Yes. The Jolly Rocker was the very thing! It was a teeter-totter made of metal tubes formed into a rocker shape with a plastic seat and a handle-bar at both ends. Rachel picked it up and held it against her chest, with the curved side of the rocker out and swayed back-and-forth with it as we sang.

I’m sure we made beautiful music.

P.S. Imagine my surprise to discover that The White Sisters are still around and they have their own website! You can even still buy their music! Also, my dad now pastors the church Granddaddy started all those years ago. The congregation has a beautiful building now. You can see a picture of it on my dad's blog.