Jenny Matlock

I'm done. Just done.

2012-01-29T15:07:00.000-08:00

This little work of fiction is linked to week 91 of Saturday Centus. The eight word prompt is in bold! To read other offerings, just click here.

Don’t come around here begging for forgiveness AGAIN!

I don’t care anymore. I just don’t.

I know I should. Richer and poorer, sickness and health...violence and scary calm…’til (ohmyGodmyGodwhyhaveyouforsaken me) death.

We’ve been here before. You saying, ‘sorry’, with those wounded-puppy eyes.

Me saying, “I forgive you.”

You saying, “I’ll die without you. I’ll kill myself if you leave!”

Me thinking, “Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease…that’s the only way I’ll ever be free.”

I remember those thoughts…

…and how you tried to beat them out of me.

I have no more forgiveness! I know what you are!

The whole world knows what you are!

We know where all the bodies are buried.

Saturday Centus - We know where all...

2012-01-28T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week ninety-one of Saturday Centus.

Hi! Are we all good? I know you think I'm going to be evil and keep making you do other writing devices around the cliff hanging prompt...

But I'm not.

Because I'm really, really being nice this week.

And because Miss Nonna at Tasty Tales sent me some prompts to use...

...which means my brain can officially take the day off.

Again.

So...

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK (THANK YOU NONNA!) IS: We know where all the bodies are buried
WORD COUNT - 100 words total PLUS the eight words of the prompt...108 words total
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF DESIRED

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Sisterly love?

2012-01-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

So...

Our Grandlittles had an early out from school on Wednesday and I picked them up and brought them to the house.

For some reason the littlest Grandlittle and the biggest Grandlittle were in a bickery mood with each other. They pretty much just played separately and didn't interact much at all.

When Mr. Jenny and I were driving them to meet their Mom, I suggested that we all take turns telling what we admired about each other.

We started with Grandpa.

Oh my. We all thought Grandpa was smart, and good at basketball, and a good-dog-taker-care-of-person, etc.

They all thought I was nice and kind to everyone and patient and a good hugger.

When we got to the biggest Grandlittle, Grandpa went first. "Oh," he said, "You are good at basketball and you are very smart."

I went next. "You are sooo patient with animals and are so loving when anyone is hurt."

The middle Grandlittle said something like, "You help me with my homework."

And finally, it was the littlest Grandlittle, Miss Mo's, turn.

"Hmmmm..." she said, thoughtfully with her finger on her lip in deep concentration.

"Hmmm...give me a minute here...hmmm..."

The oldest Grandlittle got a little annoyed, 'Well, gee, Momo, that's really nice of you...you can't think of anything?"

Mo continued to contemplate the difficult task.

I said, "Mo, can't you think of anything nice that you like about Julia?"

"Wellll..." she finally said, "Okay! I have it! You gave me a quarter. Once."

Then she hesitated.

"But I think that was about a year ago."

We were all silent.

Mr. Jenny and I were trying not to laugh out loud.

More silence.

I cleared my throat, "Well, Miss Mo, that was a nice thing for her to do then, right?"

Mo thought a minute more and then reiterated, "Yeah, she gave me a quarter once."

And we moved on.

Sisterly love.

Priceless.

A Memory of a Farmhouse

2012-01-26T10:50:00.001-08:00

Busy with unpacking and trying to organize a family of five into a home with no closets, I had very little time to explore the ragged hedgerow of neglected, gangly tall bushes and high grass surrounding two sides of the property.

Fall and winter passed and it was not until the following spring that I realized there were treasures hidden in the grass beneath the overgrown pen and ink rendering of criss-crossed branches.

The gift of a slightly crumpled bouquet of tiny violet and yellow flowers from a slightly grubby child's hand, elicited my question, "Where, oh where, did you find these?"

My daughter chattered in excitement as we walked across the yard, her warm little hand cradled in mine.

Nestled in the grass were hundreds of the minute jewel-toned blossoms. Their slight, sweet fragrance surrounded them with gentle, perfumed scent.

I crouched down and touched them reverently. "Oh look, look," I told my daughter. "My grandmother called these little wild violets 'Johny-jump-ups'! Isn't that a funny name?" I tickled the tender underside of her chin with a little velvetty blossom as she giggled in delight.

I told her stories of my Grandmother who had adored gardens and all growing things. I told her how my Grandmother had also called these little flowers by the name 'Hearts Ease'. I told her that it DID ease my heart to know my Grandmother was still with me in the memory of the flowers...even though she had been gone for a long time.

My daughter was more delighted with the name than hearing the stories. "Johny-jump-up? Johny-jump-up! What a funny name!"

As the spring progressed the hedgerow continued to surprise and delight us with daffodils, forsythia and white and purple lilacs.

But none of their beautiful blooms touched my heart as much as that first little gift of Johny-jump-ups.

This little memory is written in honor of the letter “J” for Alphabe-Thursday. J is for Johny Jump Ups!

To read other 'J' offerings, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday Letter J

2012-01-25T10:00:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be juggling the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday evening, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please jump up and post your letter "J" now!

I give you proof...

2012-01-25T06:30:00.000-08:00

...that I am NOT an over-protective Mom!

If you missed my little revelation of insanity yesterday, click here before you look at the two pictures.

Since I had quite a few e-mails yesterday asking if I could take a picture of the creepy statue, I decided to try this morning.

Oh sure, you didn't come right out and say it, but I'm thinking you might think that I think like a crazy person...

Huh?

And since I totally wanted to dispel any possibility that could be even remotely true...

I woke up this morning and grabbed my daughter before she could leave on her bike.

"I'm driving you this morning!"

She thought I was being nice. She didn't know I was going to take a picture of Mr. Perv lying in wait by the doorway.

I dropped her off and then circled the parking lot.

I didn't want to get actually get out of the car considering I was wearing a 'rush-out-of-the-house-in-three-seconds' outfit, including my coral pink crocs.

So I put the window down and snapped these two shots.

I don't know why that top one keeps going sideways but I surrender to the eccentricities of blogger and you'll just have to turn your head slightly.

See?

See what I mean?

He's creepy, right?

In a stalking, I'm going to kill your daughter and cut her into tiny pieces kind of way.

And YOU, silly reader, thought I was just being dramatic!

Geez.

As if I ever would be.

Dramatic.

And now my shadow/over-protective story is complete.

Now I'm thinking you might think that Jenny does NOT!!! think like a person verging on insanity...

And I am so relieved.

Sigh...

Overprotective Mom?

2012-01-24T06:15:00.000-08:00

So...

This morning I had to go to Dunkin' Donuts.

Yes, I said 'HAD'!

It was important.

Because I needed to get boxes.

Oh, quit rolling your eyes.

I did. Have to get boxes. To pack for moving and all.

AND...

I didn't even get a donut or a bagel or go anywhere near the store or the drive through line...

Although I will admit there was a slightly smashed jelly donut on the concrete by the box bin that looked almost as good as new ... and...

Oh, close your mouth.

I didn't.

And I didn't even want to.

Just seeing if you're paying attention.

Okay...

But...that's not what I wanted to write about.

I wanted to tell you that BEFORE I went to DD to get the boxes, I dropped a daughter off downtown for work. She was going to ride her bike and it was cold and since I had to go to Dunkin' Donuts to get the boxes I told her I'd give her a ride.

It was dark when I dropped her. It's always dark and there's always this creepy looking guy in the corner by the recessed door waiting to go in. I'm always freaked out by the way he stands right by the door...watching...waiting...

He was there again this morning.

My daughter hopped out of the car and started to walk away.

I called her back.

"Look, just sit in the car here until they open, and then I'll leave."

She looked surprised. "Why would you want to do that? It's fine, it's only six minutes."

I insisted. "Look, sweetie, I'll just wait here with you."

"Mom? It's fine. Really. What are you doing?"

I glanced fearfully at the creepy looking guy by the door. "I dunno, I just have a bad feeling about that guy. He really, really creeps me out."

She got a weird look on her face.

"Mom? You know that's a statue, right?"

Huh?

Huh, what?

"What did you say?" I said.

"It's a statue Mom. A STATUE!"

I cleared my throat.

I laughed dismissively.

"Of course I knew that was a statue. I was only kidding!" I said and waved gaily as I drove away.

A statue?

A freakin' statue has been creeping me out for months now?

Seriously?

And that, my friends is why I resisted the only slightly smashed jelly donut. I suspect my judgement might be slightly impaired.

With all the fumes from the kitchen destruction repair and all.

Yeah.

Yeah.

That's it.

It's the fumes.

I'm certain of that.

Sigh.

Insanity.

Always just a tiny step away.

Sigh...

Hello Dolly!

2012-01-23T06:28:00.000-08:00

Well Hello, Dolly,
It's so nice to have you back where you belong

You're looking swell, Dolly,
We can tell, Dolly,
You're still glowin', you're still crowin'
You're still goin' strong!

Who needs toys when you have a dolly to play with at your Grandparents house?!?

An epilogue with a cliffhanger from a cliffhanger

2012-01-22T07:03:00.000-08:00

Huh? Did you understand that title? If you did, you are obviously a Centusian. And, here TADA! is my cliffhanger epilogue. I thought this was a fun little exercise! There was a part one and a part two to this story as well.

“Mrs. Matlock? Why are you … … here?”

I cleared my throat. “Ummm…because I was ordered to undergo a psychiatric review.”

“Because...?”

“Apparently the rescue team thought I was trying to commit suicide. I told them I was only hanging off that cliff hiding from my son.”

He wrote on his little pad. Scritch-scritch-scritch

“Hmmm…I see.” The smug little shrink tented his fingers together. “And… Mrs. Matlock? Don’t you feel that might have been … … extreme … trying to ... … … ‘hide’ in that fashion?”

Scritch-scritch-scritch

I sighed.

“Extreme? Are you serious? Do you have teenagers, Doctor?

“Mrs. Matlock, we are here today to discuss your life…NOT my life. Can you please just answer my question?”

“Well, Doctor, if you don’t have teenaged children I really don’t think talking to you is going to help.”

Scritch-scritch-scritch

“Mrs. Matlock. Sit back down! You need to finish this evaluation or…”

Ha! See! It was an epiologue WITH a cliffhanger from a cliffhanger and a conclusion. What happens next? I'm not sure. I just ran out of words!

Saturday Centus - a Mea Culpa AND another writing device

2012-01-21T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week ninety of Saturday Centus.

Please consider this picture as an official olive branch between us.

Mea culpa! Mea culpa!

Since I simply cannot bring myself to use the phrase 'my bad' as an apology, all that remains is for me to say,"I'M SORRY!!!! I'M A JERK!!! AND A LIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Our nightmare of kitchen destruction happened last Friday when I wrote the instructions for week 89. And, yes, that is my excuse. I did write you could use 100 words for part two, but then I reneged and made it 50.

Mea culpa, mea culpa!

But I'm hoping this weeks challenge redeems me.

Please consider this both a formal apology AND a challenge for this week.

How about an 'epilogue' to your cliff hanger?

You know...a new writing device for the week.

Epilogues are an inherent part of any story or poem and are essential to the structure of any written form. The epilogue is an important literary tool that acts as the afterword once the last chapter is over. The purpose of an epilogue is to add a little insight to some interesting developments that happen once the major plot is over.

So...

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS AN EPILOGUE OF BOTH PARTS OF YOUR CLIFFHANGER STORY
WORD COUNT - Since I cheated you on words last week, how about a few extra for this weeks prompt? Word count is not to exceed 150 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF DESIRED

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

If you still like me, that is.

To quote one of our sweet Grandlittle's, I sorry.

The little leak that could...

2012-01-20T06:58:00.000-08:00

...and did.

Destroy our entire kitchen, family and breakfast rooms.

I'm crabby.

Really, really crabby.

As in...give me a five pound box of chocolates and get out of my way crabby.

Over the past few days our beautiful house has become a wrecking zone.

And, no, not because I'm a hoarder...so there.

Apparently, there has been a very small leak in the kitchen drain pipe located inside the kitchen wall for a long, long time.

Apparently, water leaks that go undetected for a long, long time suddenly decide to wreak havoc.

Apparently, water leaks don't care if you're attempting to move...or if you're a little attached to having running water or appliances.

Geez.

Water leaks are kinda/sorta obnoxious when you come right down to it.

So our fun this week has been watching this happen...

Sigh.

See what I mean? Five pounds of chocolate required!

But it's all going better now. Our oldest genius daughter came up with the idea of renting a storage 'POD' which is being delivered on Saturday and which will allow us to be able to walk through the remaining undestroyed rooms in our house without climbing over piles of ...ummm... stuff.

My genius mother came up with the idea of making our laundry room into a temporary kitchen...

Our youngest daughter is an organizational genius and she is moving and rearranging.

And me. I'm just dreaming of chocolate and finding every single crockpot recipe ever invented!

Sigh.

It's an adventure.

And the guy buying the house thinks it's funny. "Better you than me," he says.

He's coming over Saturday to view the destruction.

Hopefully he won't laugh at me...or I might have to beam him with a ripped up piece of once lovely hardwood floors.

We're doing good, though.

Just kinda/sorta crabby.

But...

Please, please...don't show up for a home tour today! Unless you have chocolate! Or crockpot liners!

Sigh...

A Memory of a Farmhouse

2012-01-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

The farmstead was located on land that had been home to three Native American tribes, The Wyandots, Mingoes and the Delawares. Throughout the second half of the 1700’s white explorers came to the area. In 1774 George Washington explored the area thoroughly while camped about roughly thirty miles east of the land the farm was built on.

One of the old-timers who came periodically to visit the old house (I have no illusions they came to visit us) told us there was a written journal somewhere telling about Indian fires burning by the fresh water spring when the foundation of the farmstead was being dug. He told us the journal further recorded the fact that Indian labor was used to build the actual house. Apparently the workers were paid in beef and pork from animals butchered on the farm.

We never found verification of this journal but we did find many bird and spear points every spring when the gardens were plowed.

It fascinates me to think of the history behind that old farmstead.

It frustrates me to wonder where in the world I put the box containing all the Indian treasures were found on the land.

This little memory is written in honor of the letter “I” for Alphabe-Thursday. I is for Indian.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday's letter "I". To read other offerings, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday Letter I

2012-01-18T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be improvising about the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday evening, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please inspire us with your letter "I" post now!

Sometimes you have to remember...

2012-01-17T09:58:00.001-08:00

...how to let go of the string...

post signature

My bicep hurts...

2012-01-16T07:09:00.000-08:00

...just the one...

...so, seriously, I'm wondering if I'm a wimp.

My bicep hurts because my son and his wife and her cousin and his wife and some random friend from my son's work and my daughter-in-law's father and brother-in-law all participated in something called Tough Mudder yesterday.

Tough Mudder is a course made for ... ummm... crazy people (sssshhhh...don't tell all the aforementioned people that's what I said...I'm kinda/sorta afraid of anyone that does that much physical training) who wish to torment themselves by crawling through mud, sand, pipes and obstacles while being subjected to things like electroshock therapy.

Yeah.

Yeah.

So...

While all this muddy, freezing, gritty, smelly torture was happening elsewhere in Arizona...

I got to babysit two Grandlittles AND A 15 month old baby!

A baby!

Awwwww...

She was soooo cute.

And babylike.

And sweet.

And she babbled and blew kisses and looked at the sky with amazement when birds and planes went overhead.

I read to her.

I sang to her.

Along with all the other assorted Grandma stuff I do with Grandlittles...playing games, talking, reading, playing games, making food, talking, making food, reading... (You know...the usual stuff)

But my littlest charge wanted to be carried.

And carried.

And carried.

And now, my right bicep is sore.

And I'm feeling slightly wimpy.

I didn't crawl through mud or hang from wires or wriggle through water filled pipes (I wonder if anyone ever gets stuck in those pipes...shudder...)

I didn't have electroshock therapy or get sprayed with a fire hose...

I didn't...

Hey.

Wait.

Wait a second here.

I babysat three little girls on a rainy Sunday and did all that game playing, baby carrying, feeding/talking/reading stuff for 7 1/2 hours!

Maybe I am a Tough (Grand) Mudder after all!

Except for my right bicep, that is.

Sigh...

The rest of the story...

2012-01-15T15:21:00.001-08:00

This is the conclusion to my week 88 cliffhanger for Saturday Centus.

Here is part one of the story...

I ran.

I’d like to say 'like the wind' but I’m too old and fat.

But I ran as fast as I could.

My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t hear if he was following. With every thud-thud-thud of that over-exerted, under-exercised muscle, my panic grew.

I lost a shoe.

There was no time to grieve my favorite brown leather Keen.

Thud-thud-thud…

My glasses fell off.

Thud-thud-thud….

And then I fell off.

I grabbed…

I’m certain I broke a nail…

Thud-thud-thud…

I’m certain I swallowed my heart…

Thud-thud- thud…

There I was…hanging off a cliff…

…and he came up to the edge…

Thud-thud-thud…

And now...the 50 word conclusion of my story.

...

Thud-thud-thud-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God…

He had found me.

His words rained down on me like the pebbles from the edge.

Thud-thud-thud.

“Moooo-om,” he whined in his sullen 16-year-old adolescent voice.

“Seriously. Why won’t you let me take the car? I’ve had my driver’s license…umm…like forever now!”

Thud-thud-thud-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-I-don’t-want-to-thud-thud-thud-do-this-anymore…

I strongly debated just letting go.

...

Okay. What idiot only gave us 50 words this week? Seriously? 50 words to finish up a cliffhanger. What a dumb idea for a part two...I mean...seriously...who the heck????

ummm...

ummm....

blush....

Okay. Never mind.

To read other 'part two's' just click here.

Saturday Centus - Hanging off a cliff ... conclusion

2012-01-14T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-nine of Saturday Centus.

I am having a wicked time visiting blogs for some reason. Hopefully blogger will be more cooperative over the weekend.

So...

Last week we tried using the cliffhanger literary device...

...and hopefully you literally left us hanging.

There is no official prompt this week. Just a continuation of last weeks story.

...and because I want to challenge you AGAIN...

What about if we do the conclusion in fifty words.

Yes.

Five zero.

I was going to do ten but I thought you'd all throw a revolt.

So...

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS A CONTINUATION OF YOUR STORY USING: Hanging off a cliff!
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 50 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF DESIRED

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Clutterless in Arizona

2012-01-13T03:41:00.000-08:00

Mr. Jenny doesn't understand how disturbing I find it to have almost all my treasures packed away in boxes.

In the process of getting ready to move, I've emptied almost all flat surfaces in our house of their ... ummm... charming collection of eclectic ... ummm... stuff.

And it's getting to me.

Sure, I've left the pictures on the wall and most of the stuff is still INSIDE the cupboards, but my library and kitchen shelves are bare. The old school desk and dry sink in my entry way are bare. Everywhere I look all I see are flat surfaces unpunctuated by cool and pseudo-clutterlike things.

Okay. Mostly cool things.

Okay. Some cool things.

And so last night when we met my parents for a birthday dinner for my Mom (homemade chicken and dumplings for me, thank you very much) and I noticed a sign for a Thursday night consignment auction I INSISTED that Mr. Jenny give me a few minutes to check it out.

Ooooh.

Aaaaah.

Stuff.

Lots and lots of stuff.

The item being auctioned when I went in the store was a really neat Roseville vase. It was brown. And I wanted it.

Mr. Jenny must have noticed the look on my face because he said, "Wait! Don't bid on that! I think you have one like it!"

Silly man.

Of course, I knew I had one like it. Of course, I wasn't going to bid. Of course, I wasn't thinking how neat it would be to have a pair of them!

Silly man.

Doesn't he know you have to register before you can bid?

I looked around the room to see where you could register and noticed lots of depression glass, a cool punch bowl, a big pile of dusty old books, some old records...

Mr. Jenny didn't seem very comfortable with me looking around, because I quickly found myself being pulled toward the door by a very determined husband.

"Don't even think about it," he said, "Seriously, I think you packed all that exact same stuff away."

"Think about what?" I replied innocently. "But I miss it. Miss my stuff. I feel like a monk. I need some stuff."

No, I'm pretty sure I don't have an addictive type personality. Why do you ask?

"Look at the boxes," he muttered, "Why do you feel like a monk? You have some stuff. It's just in the boxes. Maybe you could draw some pictures on the outside of the boxes of some of your stuff and that would make you feel better."

"It would be dumb to draw stuff on the boxes...hmmm...but maybe that would be cool...but I don't have time to draw stuff on the boxes...and a monk, you know? In an austere ... ummm... place where Monk's live...with no stuff... you know???...bare? Geez, keep up here buddy!"

Mr. Jenny sighed.

And gave me 'the look'.

So I meekly followed him to the car. Because I am extremely docile like that.

...

...

When we got in the car, Mr. Jenny tried to talk me down. "Look how much you've gotten packed. If you got something else you'd just have to pack it right? And just think, maybe after we move you can get rid of some of your ... ummm... stuff ... and get new stuff ... and blah, blah, blah..."

I patted his hand.

And agreed with him.

Silly man.

As if I didn't know all that.

As if I would buy more stuff while in the process of moving.

As if I would even WANT to bid on those two jadeite coffee mugs at the auction house.

Hmmm...

Jadeite coffee mugs.

Hmmm...

Jadeite coffee mugs.

Those are small.

And don't take up much room.

And, technically, they're not really 'stuff' because you can use them.

Hmmm...

I may have to sneak out next Thursday and go to the auction. They might have more coffee mugs then.

Or some cool bowls with polka dots on them.

Or...

Well gosh. The possibilites are just endless.

Just don't tell Mr. Jenny we had this little conversation, please!

...

...

Sigh...

A memory of a farmhouse

2012-01-12T07:56:00.000-08:00

It was the best sled riding hill in the world. Or at least that’s what my children thought.

Not only was it steep and fast, the top of the hill was right by the laundry room door…a perfect scenario for three small children with perpetually cold hands and feet.

I sat by the kitchen window with a cup of steaming tea and watched three penguin children waddle up and down the glittery slope. Their red, navy and sky blue ski suits gleamed brightly against the white canvas of snow.

A black-speckled enamel sauce pan filled with hot cocoa simmered on the stove. The adjoining laundry room was cozy with the constantly running dryer.

When the knocks came, I would open the laundry room door and three red-cheeked children would crowd into the warm space…snow melting onto the ugly linoleum floor into immediate puddles adorned with discarded mittens and long, colorful scarves.

They would sip eagerly at small mugs of cocoa…anxious to return to the excitement of sleds in the arctic, or magic carpet rides, or whatever their imaginations concocted around the slickery fun of sliding down hills…fast, fast, fast.

Then each child would be lifted up onto the dryer where I would exchange their cold little socks for warm ones. Warm-from-the-dryer mittens would go back on little hands, warm scarves would wrap around glowing little faces…

…and they were off!

And so was I.

Mittens, gloves and socks went back into the dryer for the next round.

Puddles would be mopped up.

Cocoa mugs rinsed out.

And I would resume my post by the kitchen window.

I was the guardian of my children making memories...

...The official guardian of the hill…

This little memory is written in honor of the letter “H” for Alphabe-Thursday. H is for Hill.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday's letter "H". To read other offerings, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday Letter H

2012-01-11T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be happily discussing the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please hop over and post your letter "H" now!

Mr. Ed is making me answer some of your questions about the Craig's list table story

2012-01-11T05:58:00.000-08:00

Mr. Ed called me yesterday with a few questions about the entire Craig's list, patio table selling fiasco.

Do you know who Mr. Ed is?

If you don't...well...he's a talking horse...from a TV show back in the dark ages...and he was always pretty informative in a ... well ... horsey kind of way. I don't think this particular series is going to see the light of day again...but, hey, I was wrong about Hawaii 5-0, too!

BUT...

Mr. Ed told me to answer some of the most common questions from my two part story. Mr. Ed is pretty persuasive. I think it's those big, yellow teeth.

So.

Ahem...Mr. Ed. This post is for you.

We live in an old residential area with some yards having lots up to TWO acres. We are allowed to have chickens, goats and horses on our lots. Many of our neighbors have these things. We do not. Our only livestock here is Oskar, the weiner dog.

The crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair and her husband, the surveyor, have a huge lot. They have horse sheds and I'm pretty sure they own the obnoxious rooster in the immediate neighborhood...Grrrrr...

We can't see into that alley from anywhere in our yard and we only go into that alley when we need to haul something out of the far back, back yard.

Speaking of which...I designed our yard to be a series of 'rooms'. You can see parts of each yard from the other, but never the whole yard at the same time. It's a cool layout. Works well for parties. There are five separate components to our back yard...the yard by the kitchen, the yard by the pool, the side yard where the herb gardens are, the middle yard where the tire swing is and, finally, the back, back yard. Just because you asked.

But...

All those yards won't matter much anymore because we sold our house.

!!!

It was a surprise to me, too.

Remember when Mr. Jenny and I went away to Winslow (to stand on the corner) in early November? When we left home, all was well in our business world. When we returned, all was not. Minor understatement.

Long, weepy, crazy story made short ... the major part of our business tanked. We've both been self-employed since almost forever. When stuff like this happens in your small business, you have to make hard decisions...fast...with your head and not your heart.

I told my heart to shut up, called the bank and a realtor and the house was sold right after Thanksgiving. In one day. Boy, there are stories about that, too. Especially about the family that bought the house. But...Mr. Ed won't like it if I stray from what this post is supposed to be about. Obviously, Mr. Ed doesn't understand the 'off on a tangent' way my mind works...

But...

We've been in this lovely home a good long while but change is good...and a house is still just a collection of things and memories. We'll take the memories with us, but a lot of the stuff has to go...thus the garage sales and the Craig's list sales.

We are going to move closer to our Grandlittle's, rent a house for a year or two and regroup.

My biggest battle with the whole 'selling the house thing' was HAVING to sell versus DECIDING to sell. But, really, that's just a matter of pride and feeling out of control.

And since pride and control are so often self-saboteurs of sanity, I told myself to quit being a whiner, this happens to many people every day, I wasn't so special as to avoid such icky things, and to move on. Literally and figuratively.

To do so, I've been interviewing for some virtual customer service jobs. I need to get a 'real' job for awhile as we regroup, but health issues make it difficult for me to be away from home some days. If you know of anyone hiring for positions like that, let me know!

I've also been packing two boxes a day and sorting through stuff in the process. So far I think we've donated about 200 books and haven't really put a dent in the pile. I shudder to think where all the rest of the stuff packed away in closets and cupboards came from. Who the heck put all that stuff there anyway?

If they neighbors haven't put up some kind of a fence keeping their horses in their yard and out of the alley by this weekend, Mr. Jenny and I will go to the neighbors together (without a plate of cookies) and tell them their horses will continue to get out as we use that gate. And maybe I will shovel up a little of that horse manure and pile it in the side of the garden. The people moving in are gardeners and I suspect that would be a great house-warming gift for them.

Anyway...I have a two box packing quote to meet AND I have a phone interview with a company out of Cincinnatti who uses Virtual customer service agents!

Mr. Ed say's I've written enough now and I'm free to go!

Thanks for reading my little story. I'm still laughing over the whole thing. It just makes me laugh! Life is good, my friends!

Hugs from...

AND

How NOT to sell a patio set on Craigs List! Part 2!

2012-01-10T03:00:00.000-08:00

Here's part one of this ridiculous story...just in case you missed it and you have absolutely nothing else to do!
...
...

But before I start this part I'm going to be one of those people that have to go back and tell you something they missed telling you in the first part of their story.

Sorry. I'm forgetful like that.

Ummm...

What was I gonna say?

Oh yeah.

Now I remember...

I forgot to tell you that when you go out of the gate in our far back, back yard there is a second gate in the alley that goes out to the street.

When Mr. Jenny went into the alley from the gate in our back, back yard, he was quite surprised and puzzled over the horse poop all over the place.

When he was opening the padlock into the street he felt something by his shoulder and turned his head to see a horse. The horse pushed by him and pushed the gate open and ran out. Before Mr. Jenny could figure out what was happening the second horse dashed by him.

Then as he was running out the gate to catch the horses, the crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair starting chasing after him and the horses...screaming and swearing..."You let my horses out!" (along with assorted swear words!)

I'm gonna see if I can make Mr. Jenny tell that part of the story himself...but he's watching something vaguely sports-like thing on TV and I think he's busy right now.

hee hee.

This is still making me laugh... Seriously. I really, really need to get out more.

...

Now...part two officially continues...

I knocked again.

No answer.

Hmmm…

I decided to knock really, really loud and when I did the crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair came to the door. Only now she didn’t look quite as crazy. Or quite as ticked-off. She still had wild red hair, though.

She looked a little worried but I smiled at her. “I come in peace,” I said…because I’m moderately dramatic like that.

She stepped quickly forward and hugged me!

Hugged me hard!

I was surprised...to say the least.

“Oh, oh, I’m so glad you stopped over…really, truly…I’m not a bitch! And I was just getting ready to get some butter out and make you and your husband some cookies.”

I am nothing if not reassuring when confronting previously crazy looking ticked-off ladies with wild red hair, especially those that are throwing out the possibility of cookies. “I’m not a bitch either!” I assured her. I hugged her back.

We let go of each other and then we both started laughing.

“I am soooo mad at my husband! He was supposed to come around and tell all the neighbors we were getting horses back here.”

I thought for a moment. “Hmmm… wait a second. Last week the guy mowing our grass said some Russian people came over and said they were getting horses. Was that you?”

She thought for a moment. “Well….hmmm...we’re not Russian but the next door neighbors are Russian.” She pointed to the single other house whose back fence connects abuts our alley. “But,” she continued, “I don’t think they have any horses.”

We puzzled over that for a moment.

Then I asked, “But I don’t understand why your horses are in OUR alley pooping all over.”

She hugged me again.

“Welll…you know these neighbors?” She pointed to another set of neighbors whose side yard adjoins the part of the alley by the street.

“We hate them. They said they didn’t want us to have horses in their alley. But! My husband is a surveyor and he looked up the boundaries and that isn’t THEIR alley at all!”

(for clarity...I made you this wonderful map. You can click on it to make the image larger. ... ... you're welcome!)

Hmmmm…

Cookies versus another argument. I thought hard. Hmmm…. Hmmm…

“Welll…I still don’t understand,” I said in a mournful voice already recognizing there probably wouldn’t be any cookies, “If you knew that was OUR alley why would you let your horses poop in there?”

She hugged me again.

She started sounding pretty aggressive. “Welll…I just really thought that they thought it was THEIR alley. And who was that man YOU were yelling at anyway?”

I was confused. This woman was having more mood swings than me AFTER my hysterectomy but PRIOR to finding hormone replacement therapy that worked.

“Ummm…” I said, edging away from what I perceived as a possible imminent hug. “That was the guy that bought our patio set and I thought he owned that huge black dog.”

“Oh.” She thought. “That dog. That is my Granddaughters rescue dog. We just got him. When we got the horses.”

In full abandonment of potential cookies I forged ahead. “So…anyway…we’re going to need you to put up a fence or something to keep your horses from pooping there in the alley and getting out of the gate when we use it.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. I gulped.

Then she laughed gaily and said, “No problem…I’ll have my son clean up the horse manure and we’ll put up a small fence to keep them in our yard.”

I edged away.

I was getting dizzy. Now I know how people feel when they talk to ME!

“Okay, that’ll be great!” She lunged at me again and gave me another hug. That woman was seriously affectionate.

And now.

Here it is. Monday night…

AND…

There are still horses and horse poop and a huge, black dog in my alley.

And we didn’t get any cookies here.

I did, however, receive a text message from the guy that bought the patio furniture saying…(and I quote)…”Did u chs any horses 2day? Yeehaw!”

Yeah.

So.

Maybe I can get him to bring us some cookies.

And clean up the horse poop.

Sigh…

How NOT to sell a patio set on Craigs List!

2012-01-09T03:00:00.000-08:00

So…

Mr. Jenny and I are moving.

And in the process of the move, we decided to sell a very large patio set that resides on our far back, back patio. You can access the far back, back patio from the main yard but there is also a large gate in the far back, back yard that leads to an alley that we own.

When I listed the set on Craigs List, Mr. Jenny and I talked about how we would have to have the buyer load it out of the alley…

So…

A guy called on my cell and said he wanted to see the set.

Since I’m still tuckered out from my little battle with strep, Mr. Jenny told me he would handle it and that I should just go to bed.

I gave him my cell phone, got into my flannel nightgown and went to bed.

After the doorbell rang, I heard Mr. Jenny talking to the potential buyer. I figured Mr. Jenny took the buyer into the far back, back yard to show him the patio set because Oskar, the weiner dog, had a barking fit.

But after a bit, he quit barking.

So…I dozed.

I awoke a brief time later to hear Oskar, the weiner dog, barking.

And barking.

And barking.

Not wanting to get up and get dressed, I called my cell phone…

… but Mr. Jenny didn’t answer.

And Oskar, the weiner dog, kept barking.

And barking.

And barking.

I called my cell phone again and Mr. Jenny finally answered.

He was all breathless.

And panting.

And I said, “What the heck are you doing? Oskar, the weiner dog, is barking and barking. Did the guy buy the patio set?”

And Mr. Jenny said, “I can’t talk now, I’m chasing horses!” and then he hung up on me.

Horses?

Horses?

We don’t own any horses.

As I was laying there trying to puzzle this out, the house phone rang and it was Mr. Jenny calling me from my cell phone. He sounded even more breathless. “Quick! Get dressed! Come help us catch these horses!”

So I quickly got dressed and went into the far back, back yard by the far back, back patio.

Nobody was in the yard, but the gate was wide open.

When I walked back to look through the gate I saw our alley was filled with horse poop, a man I’d never seen before, and a crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair holding a leash. I also saw a huge black dog running my way.

“Acccckkk!!!!” I screamed to the man I’d never seen before. “Get your dog! Get your dog! Oskar, the weiner dog, will get into a fight! Get your dog!”

The man I’d never seen before yelled, “It’s not my dog! Who are you?”

“Whose dog is it?” I yelled back, “And who are you?”

The crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair starting screaming, “It’s my dog! Why did you let my horses out?”

The huge black dog took off running through the far back, back yard heading toward my house.

I yelled at the crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair, “Get the dog, get the dog!” but she just stood there swearing at me.

The man I’d never seen before took off running toward the house to catch the huge black dog.

The crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair starting screaming at me, “Why did you let my horses out!”

I started yelling back at her, ‘This is our alley! Why are your horses in our alley anyway?”

Just then a big horse came running in through the open gate of the alley, interrupting our squabble.

Mr. Jenny came puffing up the alley behind the horse looking winded and red-faced and very annoyed.

The crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair and Mr. Jenny started arguing.

“I asked permission to put the horses back here!” she yelled.

Mr. Jenny yelled back, “You did NOT! I wouldn’t have given you permission to let your horses poop all over our alley!”

The man I’d never seen before came back dragging the huge black dog by the collar.

We all looked at each other, trying to figure out what was going on.

Mr. Jenny said, “Can you help this guy load the table? I need to have a conversation here!” He lowered his eyebrows. I was scared. I never, ever, ever like to be around Mr. Jenny when he is having a conversation with his eyebrows lowered.

I went with the man I’d never seen before to help him load the chairs.

He was laughing really hard and kept saying, “Wow, that’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time!”

I asked him to tell me what had happened. He told me my husband had instructed him to drive around to the alley and he could pull his truck in and they would load the patio set there.

He told me had started driving around to the alley but had seen two horses charge by him followed by my husband chasing them.

He told me had turned his truck around and came back to the driveway to help my husband catch the horses.

He told me the Fed-ex driver had stopped at the end of our street and jumped out to chase the horses.

His eyes were big and wide. He looked delighted.

“And,” he added, “I got a perfect patio set, too!”

Mr. Jenny finally came into the far back, back yard and closed the gate. He was still all red faced.
We finished loading up the table.

And then we stood in the front yard and talked about the horses and the crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair.

The guy who bought the table said, “You two women were both scary! You were yelling at me to get my dog but it wasn’t my dog but I was afraid to tell you it wasn’t my dog AND I was afraid to tell the crazy looking horse lady to get her dog…so I ran after the dog anyway!”

Mr. Jenny said, “You didn’t have to run after the dog, because I locked Oskar, the weiner dog, in the house!”

I said, “I didn’t know Oskar, the weiner dog, was locked in the house. Now I’m embarrassed. I apologize!”

The guy who bought the table said, “Don’t apologize. I should pay you extra for all that fun! That was the most exciting thing that happened to me in a long time! What happened with the ticked-off lady?”

Mr. Jenny said, “Oh, she’s calm now. She thought we were the other neighbors who told her she couldn’t have horses and she thought they owned the alley so she was just letting the horses poop in there, but she’s going to clean up the poop and put up a fence.”

Huh?

So…

After chatting and laughing some more the guy who bought the table said, “I hate to go, but if you have anything else to sell let me know, okay?”

And Mr. Jenny and I went inside and let Oskar, the weiner dog, out and sat down to recover.

But since this happened on Friday, Mr. Jenny’s had to go to work and when he went back into his office to get on a conference call he left me all alone with nobody to talk to about the whole crazy episode.

And because…

I couldn’t stand not hearing the other side of the story...

...and I'm just a teensy bit of a trouble-maker...

I jumped in the car and drove around the corner to the house of the crazy looking ticked-off lady with wild red hair.

And I knocked on her door...

To be continued…

(Hey, leave me alone. I have a boring life so I have to stretch out the telling of any psuedo-interesting tale as much as possible…)

PS. All the pictures were taken on Saturday...which is why the gate is closed and the horse is just standing there in the picture. The other horse was shy and wouldn't come out from around the shed. The gate behind the horse leads to the street that the horses ran down. The horse poop is real. And stinky.

The beating of my heart is the only sound...

2012-01-08T10:37:00.000-08:00

This suspenseful little cliffhanger is linked to week 88 of Saturday Centus. It is a two part prompt, and the four word prompt is in bold. To read other offerings, just click here.

Saturday Centus - Hanging off a cliff...

2012-01-07T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-eight of Saturday Centus. I am only one week behind in reading now! Go me!

So...

It's a new year and I'm feeling like we should stretch our brains just a tiny bit to rid ourselves of the last residues of fudge and sugar cookies.

Let's try a two week Saturday Centus.

Using a literary device.

Yes.

I said a literary device.

It's good for you.

Don't groan. Please.

This week I thought we could try to use a cliffhanger. A cliffhanger is defined as: The narrative ends unresolved, to draw the audience back to a future episode for the resolution.

Thus...

The two part challenge.

Next week we will conclude our cliffhanger centus.

Cool, right?

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS: Hanging off a cliff! (Might as well be literal while we're attempting to use this literary device!)
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 100 words plus the 4 words of the prompt. 104 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any so long as you utilize a cliffhanger writing device to wrap your story up. Next week we'll do an additional 100 words for the rest of the story.
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF DESIRED

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

You can't change the past...

2012-01-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

No matter how much your mind wants to.

Heaven knows, we try, but sometimes an event occurs that shakes you to your shoes anyway…

And it is so bad…so very bad that you must lay it to rest as a secret of your heart.

You bury it deep and cover it with shovelsful of denial and boulders of self-protection.

You pretend really, really hard that you have no memories of it.

But sometimes in the most vulnerable hours when you are suspended between sleep and wakefulness you find yourself giving voice to the secret.

When the whispered words fill the safe silence of your bedroom, the emotions pour over you with such intensity that they bruise you to your very soul.

You gasp in astonishment that the pain of so many years ago can feel so new.

But you carefully tuck the emotions away again.

For these things are too ugly to speak of. Too ugly to be believed.

We struggle alone. And in silence.

And in our silence we own the ugliness.

Even if we didn’t cause it. Didn’t ask for it to happen.

And we say, “OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod…why?why?why?why did this happen to me?OhGodOhGod…”

But we say it in quietly.

We are, after all, survivors.

We know how to keep a stiff upper lip…

…because…

…so many have it so much worse than we do.

Who are we to cry for ourselves when the world today needs all our tears?
…

…

William Shakespeare said, “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”

Keep your secrets at your peril.

Even if you don’t voice them to the world… voice them to yourself.

Stand in your shower and scream them out.

Blast the volume in your car and let the ugliness pour out.

Then roll down the windows so the poison can escape.

And forgive yourself.

And while we can never regain our innocence and trust of the world…

…we can regain a tiny bit of what was lost…

…a tiny bit of who we were before the secret began.

Keep your secrets at the peril of your heart, my friends.

Wishing you peace and self forgiveness on the dawn of the New Year.

A memory of a farmhouse

2012-01-05T06:40:00.000-08:00

The spring water poured from the side of the hill like a faucet abandoned by children called to an early dinner of their favorite dishes.

The crystal ribbon of water was achingly, gaspingly cold.

A cold so intense it almost felt like fire if you left your hands under the stinging flow for too long.

The water ran down a small incline and bubbled and burbled along a narrow waterway edged in a frill of emerald green so powerful it imprinted the intense color on to your retinas.

Watercress and water polished pebbles…

Luscious, luxuriant, verdant blades of grass and precious, blonde-haired little girls looking for treasures and arrowheads …

A memory from a farmstead in honor of the letter “G”.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday's letter "G". To read other offerings, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter G

2012-01-04T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be gavorting with the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know! I have been super behind...I've had this ongoing strep issue for almost 10 days now but I promise I will be by!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please gallop over and post your letter G now!

Happy 3rd Day of the Year!

2012-01-03T16:42:00.000-08:00

Packing. Working. Sick Grandlittles. Sick Grandma.

Happy.

Happy.

New Year!

Oh wait.

That was a few days ago, right?

Well...

That's the best I can do for the moment!

Sigh...

post signature

Winners, Winners! Lemon Dinners!

2012-01-02T11:50:00.000-08:00

Hmmm...that doesn't work very well, does it?

It always sounds so cute with, "Winner, winner! Chicken Dinner!"

But hey...

I'm stubborn.

So I'm leaving the weird title anyway!

Anyway...

Here it is, 2012 and I've finally got an answer from the parents-to-be for the new Grandlittle on the way.

Here's what they wrote:

Hey there!

We looked at your blog post last night, and there are a lot of good suggestions!

Of course, we had trouble agreeing on the 2 winners, but here they are:

1. Parker (a name we'd been thinking about already!)
2. Zane

Special gold star bonus points for everyone who suggested a variation of James/Jim - since we have a special fondness for the name (but it's already taken!)

Also a big thumbs up to "Nutella," one of Jim's favorite foods! ;-)

This was fun - thanks!
Stef & Jim

The three winners of lemons are:

Parker - Mary Ellen
Zane - Up in the Cosmos
Nutella - 5th Sister
I'll post on your blogs about winning, but can you also send me your mailing address so I can get these packed and in the mail to you this week?

jennymatlock at cox dot net

Thanks for playing!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T11:29:00.000-08:00

I did it!

I stayed up until midnight to usher in the New Year.

And now I'm cranky.

And out of sorts.

Sure, there was drinking...

...I had about 1/2" of white wine in the bottom of a juice glass (which, come to think of it, I don't think I even finished)...

...and merriment...

...combined with a little cursing that our neighbors seemed to have bought out an entire fireworks display that took almost an hour to set off!

Mr. Jenny and I went out last night to our daughter and son-in-laws, ate a sumptious Chinese feast, played something called Chickenfoot (quite badly, I might add!) and drove home at 11.

The staying up to midnight thing was compliments of our neighbors.

Today's crabbiness is compliments of me not going to bed at 8 pm like usual.

But, hey, it's only New Years once a year!

And I'm glad we saw it in!

Hope your celebration was a but less cranky-inducing!

Hugs from Arizona,

Saturday Centus - Resolution! Schmezolution!

2011-12-31T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-seven of Saturday Centus. Happy New Year Centusians! Don't hate me cuz I'm so late visiting! Life has been extremely 'life-y' lately!

Sending you warm wishes for a safe and festive New Years Eve and the start of beautiful 2012!

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS: Resolution! Schmezolution!
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 100 words plus the 2 words of the prompt. 102 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF DESIRED

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Chaos and Peace

2011-12-31T02:59:00.000-08:00

This little SC story is part fiction, part fact. Like many of you, I face Christmas each year with the sad heart of Christmas memories past. Each year I say, “Oh how I miss Christmas when my children were small,” and each year I allow the sadness to creep into what should be a holiday of joy and celebration. I wallow in the emotions for awhile and then pack them carefully away for the following year...like a hated, yet beloved, hair shirt of self torture.

This year I tried very hard to throw all those emotions out along with the piles of discarded wrapping paper.

I suspect those ‘perfect’ Christmases of my memory were not nearly as perfect as I now paint them to be.

I want to start new traditions for Christmas 2012. New things to focus on, new ideas, new ways of allowing myself to rejoice in what is happening in my life RIGHT now. I want to allow myself to feel the excitement and magic of the current moment.

The present is the present...the true gift of my life even though it is so often filled with change and loss and many things beyond my control.

The thing I can control, though, is how I deal with my life each day...and how I deal with Christmases to come.

I can control my choices each day...choose sorrow or choose joy...to look toward the light and find potentials and possibilities or to allow myself to embrace victimhood and wallow in 'ohpoorpoorme' illness.

It is time for a change. For many changes.

I don't know what they all are yet...but I am going along for the ride...I am going to close my eyes and give myself wholly to 2012...unencumbered with the weight of past perceptions and times...unafraid of the 'what if's'.

As a small part of expressing those feelings, here then is my last SC for 2011.

I give it to you in the spirit of hope...and adventure...

I'm looking forward to a 2012 filled with creative endeavors and explorations.

And I hope we continue to share the community of words as the year unfolds.

Hugs and blessings,
Jenny Matlock

Piles of paper, wasted on the floor
The vacant eyes, and the ‘gimme more’s’.
I must oh I must oh I must step away…
…before I’ve lost all the meaning of a true Christmas Day.
I wander the streets and I look in each window…
…ghostlike, I see much less happy than sorrow…
I must oh I must oh I must turn away…
…I’m looking and looking and there’s no Christmas Day.
I feel all the sadness, the loss and the grief…
…the mourning of past times is more than a thief…
I must oh I must oh I must look ahead
…I fear if I don’t my true Christmas is dead…
I look in my heart and my soul for a sign…
…that the Christmas I loved will once more be mine…
And I listened and listened and listened so well…
and finally my message rang clear as a bell…
I can’t look for Christmas in past Christmas days…
…I can’t look for Christmas in the MEMORY of joys…
I opened my heart and my soul for a glimpse
…and I finally remembered just what Christmas is…
I listened and listened and finally rejoiced…
When I heard an angel voice…
through the chaos and the noise.

This post is linked to Week 86 of Saturday Centus. To read other offerings, just click here.

I interrupt this repeat post...

2011-12-30T16:44:00.000-08:00

...to tell you that I've been taking care of Grandlittles with strep for about a week now and I think it might have kinda/sorta grabbed me.

YIKES!

So I'm feeling icky but I don't want to break my post a day streak so...

I'm bringing you a re-run.

Yes, yes I am.

And I don't feel a bit ashamed...

...cuz this post, sadly, is still totally and completely true.

And even though I'm feeling a bit road-killed here, I still have just enough energy to wish a Happy New Year!

...

...

...I'm thinkin' this is pretty much how it would go...

Not that I know for sure...

...but let's just say for instance...

That person...whoever he or she might be would...

Go to take the ornaments off the tree and one would roll under the couch...

And then it would be icky under the couch so they would have to get a broom and dustpan from the garage...

(ps. This is a googled picture of 'dust bunnies'! The underneath of my couch looks NOTHING like this! I think!)

And that part of the garage would be kind of messy so they would take a moment to tidy it up and while they were tidying they would see a bag with a bunch of little kid stuff that they had taken out of the car and forgotten to put away...

So they would have to sort that out and go to put all the little kids books and art supplies away...

And in the process they would see that the rest of the kids books were all messed up...

And in the midst of the books they would find some coloring books which are obviously not supposed to be there...

So they would take the coloring books to the art supply stuff where they would not only find the new stuff they just left there from the garage but also a mess in the old stuff which would require tidying up and they would also find several pairs of little girls socks that would need to go to the laundry room...

Where there would be a load of laundry reading to go into the washer and another load ready to be hung out to dry...

And after they hung out the clothes...

... they might realize that they were getting tired so they would go make themselves a cup of tea and then go lay on the couch with it to watch a re-run of Iron Chef...

And then their significant other would come out to the living room and say "gee, I thought you were taking down the tree."

Hmmm....

I'm just saying that technically something like this could happen to someone who may, or may not, have ADD.

Sigh.

As the year winds down...

2011-12-29T09:32:00.001-08:00

I count my blessings. There are so many.

Living in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

A roof over my head that keeps me warm and dry and safe.

Granddaughters that are the joy of my heart.

A lovely garden, and the ability to walk to it and see the growth and change every single day.

Food, electricity, warmth.

The ability to dream.

The unlimited riches of words...the umlimited horizons that words offer to me.

Friends, old and new. Friends, silver and gold.

Kind words on a sad day.

Choices

A husband who loves me in spite of everything.

Loving myself in spite of everything.

The wealth of possibilities.

The potential of tomorrow.

Living my life every single day.

Facing down fear.

Choosing beauty.

Choosing hope.

Choosing to look up at the sky and look beyond the grey clouds.

Choosing joy.

For today. And the New Year.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday's New Years linky. To visit other posts, just click here!

Alphabe-Thursday Winter Break Continues

2011-12-28T13:01:00.000-08:00

Winter Break continues this week, but next Thursday, January 5, we will resume regular Alphabe-Thursday with the letter "G".

I am very behind on my visits, but I will be working to get caught up over the next week or so!

If you have questions, or need linked during this time, please e-mail me at jennymatlock at cox dot net and put 'Alphabe-Thursday HELP!' in the subject line.

Now...

Good morning and Happy Holidays, class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be writing anything to do with the coming New Year! Recipes, stories, poems, pictures, resolutions, words to dedicate the New Year to. Please feel free to be as creative as you wish.

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please share your New Years post now! And please accept Mr. Jenny's and my wishes for a peaceful and lovely close to 2011 and a wonderful beginning for 2012!

Serious ponderings at almost years end...

2011-12-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

I am ending up 2011 having achieved nothing on my 2011 Resolution list.

Nada.

Zip.

Nyet.

And to make matters worse, I decided I would find a catchy little quote about excuses to share with you today so that I could make myself feel somewhat better about all my year end shortcomings...

And now I'm even MORE depressed...

How could I not be, with inspiring words such as this...

Excuses are the tools with which persons with no purpose in view build for themselves great monuments of nothing. ~Steven Grayhm

or this one...

No one ever excused his way to success. ~Dave Del Dotto

or worst yet, this one...

Excuses are the nails used to build a house of failure. ~Don Wilder

Hmmm...

So what I decided is that I still have a few days to make good on that long list of stuff I was totally planning to do this year...

Like...

Finish the scrapbooks I started for my kids and Grandlittles...

Lose weight and get it shape so I could buy a lime green kayak...

Wax the car...

Dust all the wooden blinds in the house...

...stay current on my blog visits...

You know...

Deep, compelling stuff like that...

I'm figuring if I hurry really, really fast I can totally organize scrapbooks from the roughly 1.2 million digital and printed photos I have on hand...

...quit eating and lose some poundage...

...take up jogging and strength training...

...buy some Turtle Wax (I wonder if they even make that brand anymore)...

...drag the hose inside to spray off all the wood blinds...

...and visit all your lovely blogs and Alphabe-Thursday and Saturday Centus links...

Yeah.

I'm pretty sure that's all possible...

Right?

RIGHT?????!!!!!

The only thing is...

I think I'm out of double-stick tape...

It would be a sin to waste all this food left over from Christmas...

My knee kinda/sorta hurts AND I'm tired...

It's too cold to wax the car...

If I drag the hose and spray the blinds and then I'd have to wash the windows, too (ACCCKKKK!!!!)...

If I visit all the blogs I need to I'll probably go semi-blind (and seriously, who has time to go to the eye doctor!!!!????)

So...

I've decided instead to just forget about all those silly quotes.

Remember...

An excuses saved is an excuse earned.

Early to excuse, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Okay, yeah.

I just made those two quotes up.

But at least I feel much better now.

...

...

Sigh...

Hoarders and hugs...

2011-12-27T15:54:00.000-08:00

Yikes!

I'm doing something different for Christmas next year!

Maybe like becoming a volunteer for a medically induced coma experiment or something.

Monday I spent almost the entire day on the couch pretending that I was actually in that coma experiment thing. I watched Hoarders all day. Sad to say, I didn't feel fulfilled or enriched from the experience.

I was, however, able to say continuously to Mr. Jenny, "See!!!!???? SEEEEEE!!!! You think I have too much stuff? Seriously?" That part of the day was slightly more rewarding for me.

giggle

Today, I needed to rouse myself from my stupor to babysit the Grandlittles at their house.

We crafted, looked at Christmas presents, hugged and kissed, roller skated, ate and hugged and kissed some more.

At the end of the day I asked our little Mo if she had gotten enough hugs and kisses.

She tipped her head and looked at me.

"No Grandma! I still need more!"

So I squished her and squashed her and made her giggle.

And then when I was leaving, she ran up to me.

"Grandma, I forgot to ask. Did YOU get enough hugs and kisses from me?"

Ahhhh...

Ahhhhh...

Sweet, sweet blessings.

And so much better than a Hoarder marathon!

It's December 26th! I'm still alive!!!

2011-12-26T06:54:00.000-08:00

...but I'm tuckered out.

I bet you are, too.

Whenever I go to bed EXTREMELY tired, apparently I snore.

Or so Mister Jenny says.

This morning we were laying in bed talking about Christmas and the highs and lows of the day and wondering if there were any maple cinnamon rolls left when Mr. Jenny informed me, "You must have been really, really tired out last night...you were really snoring when I came to bed!"

I was aghast at his exageration.

"Me?" I questioned imperiously. "You ought to talk! You are like the world's loudest snorer!"

"Not last night I wasn't," Mr. Jenny quite cheekily (I love that phrase!) replied.

"Well, show me! How loud was I snoring?"

Mr. Jenny thought for a minute and then told me, "Jenny, I cannot accurately simulate the regulation and volume of your snore."

Huh?

Who talks like that at 7:00 am on the morning after Christmas?

Actually, who talks like that at all?

...

...

"I cannot accurately simulate the regulation abd volume of your snore."???

Seriously?

Geez.

Anyway, Merry Day after. I'm off to rummage for the cinnamon roll (with raisins!) that I hid away yesterday afternoon!

Obviously I used to be a girl scout with the planning ahead and all.

Too bad I never earned the how to 'accurately simulate the regulation and volume of snores' badge.

Then I could have taught Mr. Jenny a thing or two this morning!

Have a happy rest and recovery day!

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A star, a star...shining in the night...

2011-12-25T03:00:00.000-08:00

It was seven years ago, today.

Our oldest Granddaughter, Julia, was two and a half and her sister, Riley, was just a little over one.

I had gone to babysit as I did three times each week.

The little girls were sick. Their cheeks were glowing and glorious. I remember how pretty they were…red hair damp and curly from their slight fevers.

In the process of sick children, our daughter-in-law had not had time to finish decorating the tree. It sat in the corner bedraggled and sad awaiting finery that had not yet appeared.

I had warmed the bathroom up and put the girls in a lukewarm tub to play. They were quite occupied with bath crayons. Julia was happily scribbling away while Riley attempted to eat the spongey red and blue discs.

Suddenly, mid-scribble, Julia stopped and got very serious, “Gwamma, this is my sad face.” I asked her immediately, “Why do you have a sad face?” and she replied with great sincerety, “No staw, Gwamma.”

I didn’t understand her, so I asked her again. “No staw, Gwamma,” she repeated, blue eyes big and solemn.

“No straw, Julia? You want a straw?” She patiently repeated it to me, slowly, like I was a very dumb adult, “No staw on twee, Gwamma,” then she held up the yellow and blue bath crayons and pantomimed drawing in the air. “Mine color a staw for twee, Gwamma,” she said. She had a little trouble with her pronouns back then.

I got them out of the tub, cuddling their sweet slippery, clean baby chubbiness in fuzzy bath towels. After they were dressed all warm and cozy in their tiny, blue jeans, turtlenecks and slipper socks it was snack time. After half-heartedly consuming a few crackers, Julia started again. “Gwamma. I sad. No staw on tree.”

So I commenced a search for paper, crayons, and glitter which was mostly futile. After much digging I finally found a manilla folder, some little kid’s crayons, a yellow highlighter and some glitter tubes.

We sat at their little table. Julia colored and colored and colored with crayons and the yellow highlighter all over that manila folder where I had drawn a big star for the top of the tree. While she colored Riley ‘helped’ by attempting to eat the crayons and making that gaggy, stick-out-your-tongue face that seems synonymous with trying to dine on crayolas.

Finally, finally yellow highlighter, multi-colored crayon squiggles and a few bath crayon accents completed a magnificent star. The glitter pens were dried up but Julia didn’t care. She thought her star was perfect.

After watching me carefully cut all the way around the outline of the star, Julia looked at me with a solemn face and pointed at the top of the tree. I lifted her up high into the air and after a few seconds deliberation she finally knew where she wanted to put it.

As I lowered the sweet weight of her down her peach soft cheek brushed against mine.

Safely on the ground, she put her chubby starfish hands onto her tiny jean clad hips. “Oh,” she said softly, “Gwamma, is a staw…” and her beautiful round blue eyes just sparkled with happiness.

I will never forget her face in that moment.

I will never forget the glorious satisfaction she found from a manila folder and a yellow highlighter.

Each year since when I place the angel on the top of our tree, I think of Julia and her ‘staw’…

And I am determined to find Christmas in my heart…

No matter how hidden away it seems to be some years..

…
Bless you, my dear friends. You have lightened my heart this year, shared my silliness, shared my sorrows and have offered acceptance and reassurance in an extremely difficult time of my life.

Even when you haven’t known it, there have been so many times you have been the star on top of my tree. I thank you for that and I send each of you the wish and the hope that each of you has a star adding joy to your life this holiday season.

Merry Christmas.

Saturday Centus - I heard an angel voice...

2011-12-24T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-six of Saturday Centus. Please accept my warmest wishes for a lovely holiday. I know that sounds really cheesy, but I totally mean it. I love the little community of support and encouragement that we've built together here.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS: I heard an angel voice through the chaos and the noise...
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 200 words plus the 11 words of the prompt. 211 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF DESIRED

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Today...

2011-12-23T07:00:00.000-08:00

Some of my family will gather...

...and we will fill the house with the scent of cookies baking...

...and there will be flour everywhere...

...and the toy room will be trashed...

...and there will be leaves tracked up and down the hall from people going in and out from the yard...

...and we will all sample way too many sweets...

...and we will all be wrapped in nostalgia and joy and memories of cookies baked in the past...

...and we will use every dish towel in the kitchen...

...and things will be spilled...

...my counter tops will be smeared with butter and glittered with sugar...

...and when it is all over...

My heart will sigh...

...and be filled with such joy...

...and so many wishes that you are all surrounded by chaos and clatter and chatter and carbohydrates...

...on this eve of Christmas Eve.

Holidays blessings from our house to yours.

Warm hugs from Arizona,

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Have you ever plugged a strand of Christmas lights in…

2011-12-22T03:00:00.000-08:00

…and they are bright and shiny and glittery and magical, until suddenly they start going out, one by one, until the whole strand becomes nothing more than cheap wire with an electrical plug on one end?

You shake the cord. You plug the cord into a different outlet. You shake the cord again.

Sometimes some of the lights flicker on again briefly. And sometimes they just stay totally dark.

There might be times when you stand in that darkness, feeling like everyone else you know has Christmas lights that work. It might even feel like the whole world is filled with sparkle and twinkle and all you have in your grasp is cheap, plastic coated wire that contains no joy, whatsoever.

If things have been difficult for some time, perhaps the lights coming on at all are really the startling thing. That little bit of glow might feel like a broken promise…or the taunt of a world that seems determined to make the darkness absolute.

Loss. Sorrow. Grief. Disapointment. Pain. Worry. Fear. Expectations. Memories.

One by one the lights flicker out. And sometimes they come on, but sometimes it seems that they just continue until it feels like there is no reason to even look for the plug to try anymore.

Christmas in the dark can be a lonely, isolated time.

I wish I had the answers on how to keep those fragile little bulbs from going dark. I wish I had the reasons that life has to be so difficult.

But, I don’t.

The only thing that works for me is even on the blackest of days, I make myself look outside myself. I’m not saying, “Oh, so many people have it worse than me”. I think I’m saying, “Things are pretty lousy right now but if I let them, all the bad things will corrode these lights to the point that they will never work again.” And that is a risk I am unwilling to take. A possibility my heart cannot afford.

So I will continue to play Christmas music loudly, sing carols badly, wrap presents with too much tape and too few ribbons. I will rejoice in my Christmas cards, and drop jingly change into the Salvation Army buckets and I will hope.

And I will hope that if you are sitting in the darkness, the lights will come a-glow for you as well.

Perhaps if we plug all of our light strands together in a sense of community and kindness and prayer and compassion, we can make this holiday just a bit brighter...

…for each of us…no matter if we are sitting in the darkness or in a dazzling, deck-the-hall room!

Once we take down all the holly and the shiny ornaments and throw away the wrapping paper all that really matters are kind words, thoughtful hugs, and finding joy in small moments…

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Alphabe-Thursday Winter Break

2011-12-21T13:01:00.000-08:00

Did you get a chance to visit my name that baby giveaway? If you didn't, just click here now!

HOLIDAY SCHEDULE! HOLIDAY SCHEDULE! HOLIDAY SCHEDULE!

Remember that this week is a Holiday Link. Please feel free to link anything related to these holiday weeks...recipes, decorations, stories, poems, pictures

Next week:

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29 - HOLIDAY LINK - Anything related to New Years - recipes, decorations, stories, poems, pictures
THURSDAY, JANUARY 5 - RESUME REGULAR SCHEDULE WITH THE LETTER "G"

If you have questions, or need linked during this time, please e-mail me at jennymatlock at cox dot net and put 'Alphabe-Thursday HELP!' in the subject line.

Now...

Good morning and Happy Holidays, class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be writing anything to do with the holiday season! Please feel free to be as creative as you wish.

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please share your Merry post now! Happy Holidays to all!

Name that baby Giveaway!

2011-12-21T03:00:00.000-08:00

Yes.

I know it's Christmas.

And you're busy.

And I'm busy.

But I'm frustrated.

I'm trying to come up with the perfect baby name for our Grandson-on-the-way.

You're going to find it hard to believe, but the kids have totally rejected the idea of naming the baby after me...even though it is due on, or very close to, my birthday. They think it would be wrong to name a little boy any variation of Jenny or Rose. Geez. Some people.

I'm gonna be honest here. I'm just running out of ideas.

I looked briefly for inspiration in my pantry and strangely neither of the parents-to-be thought the name Wheat Chex or Creamed Corn would work.

So I thought I'd ask you.

You people are smart.

And resourceful.

And clever.

And you might have more original pantries than I do...

But be warned...they don't really like the name Jet Puffed either.

Sigh.

There is going to be a grand prize and a runner up prize.

I will be awarding two boxes of lemons, picked fresh from the lemon tree in my front yard.

First prize will be a large flat rate box filled to the brim with puckery yellow beauties.

Runner up will receive a medium flat rate box filled to the brim...blah, blah, blah!

Not sure how the lemons tie into the whole 'naming a baby' thing...but...I have a complex and intricate mind...

Do, too!

Yes, huh!

...

So...

Whaddya got?

They like creative. Their last name is Allen and they're finding it a little tricky to put a first name with a last name that sounds like a first name...

And, oddly enough, they didn't like the name Alan Allen.

I tell ya.

Some people are just totally picky.

I'll announce the winner of the giveway on Tuesday, December 27th. Winner will be notified by e-mail and I'll send your lemons out as soon as I receive your address.

I'll let the parents-to-be pick their favorite name from your suggestions...

And, yes.

I know it's Christmas.

And you're busy.

But this will give your brain a break from trying to think of something to buy Aunt Mildred. After all, she never likes anything you get her anyway, right?

Sadly...I can only ship lemons to the continental US. Other countries frown on me trying to import fruit.

And I never, ever try to tick off other countries.

Because I'm kinda/sorta chicken about stuff like that.

...

...

Sigh...

Bicycles and Ziplines

2011-12-20T03:00:00.000-08:00

Our oldest Grandlittle taught our youngest Grandlittle how to ride her bike over the weekend.

After about ten minutes instructions she proudly claimed, "That girl is just a natural, Grandma!"

...and then, just because playing with chickens, climbing trees and eating like starving truck drivers wasn't quite enough activity all three of the Grands concocted a zipline in the back yard.

After about an hour they admitted defeat when they reached the conclusion that it was too painful to crash into the tree and too hard on their hands.

You might be able to tell that I'm pretty busy getting ready for Christmas!

I bet you are, too!

Child Labor and Chicks

2011-12-19T03:00:00.000-08:00

Mr. Jenny says this is why we had Grandchildren.

He hates putting up Christmas lights.

Thank heavens our middle Grandlittle thinks its swell fun!

All the grands thought it was fun that our neighbors bought a chicken tractor. They had a great time playing with the chicks!

Trendy Decorating?

2011-12-18T17:26:00.000-08:00

“Mom! Don’t you think you’re taking this locavore thing a bit too far?”
…

“Huh? No, Mom, I don’t think it applies to Christmas decorations!!!”
…

“I understand that fresh meat is the only thing ‘growing’ in Minnesota, right now, but couldn’t you have used berries and twigs on the tree instead?”

This strange little 50 word story is linked to week 85 of Saturday Centus. To read other offerings for this challenge, just click here.

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Saturday Centus - Oh Christmas tree?

2011-12-17T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-five of Saturday Centus.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS A PICTURE PROMPT!

WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 50 words.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
NO ADDITIONAL PICTURES

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

I am a genius...

2011-12-16T03:00:00.000-08:00

...I know you might have already recognized that fact...

BUT...

Get ready to be even more impressed with me than usual!

Christmas.

Let's talk about that.

We haul out all of our stuff, decorate our houses, make a bunch of food for a bunch of people, sing and be joyful and then put all of our stuff back, right?

Am I right?

Okay.

Yeah. That was a rhetorical question. I know I am.

So.

I'm thinking next year I'm going to change things up.

Next year I'm going with self-undecorating Christmas decorations...

...made of food!

Think of it!

Not just candy garlands and trees!

Tinsel made of cooked spaghetti!

Marshmallow snowmen surrounded by a sparkling field of cottage cheese!

A meat Christmas tree!

Tree skirts could be made of fruit leather, centerpieces green beans, carrots and apples!

Can't you picture it now?

Guests would come to visit and you could simply hug them, direct them to a big pile of Christmas paper plates and napkins by the front door and invite them to graze.

No muss.

No fuss.

Oh sure, by Christmas Eve things would look a little ragged but you could just add a little more rum to the eggnog and nobody would even notice that someone picked all the bacon off the Christmas tree.

...

...

I can tell by your silence you love this idea!

I'm so pleased I could impress and amaze you with my genius!

And because I love you, man, I'm giving you these ideas absolutely free...at no charge whatsoever.

Because I'm cool like that.

And because it's Christmas.

And, hey...

That's what blog friends are for.

Sigh...

A memory of a farmhouse...

2011-12-15T09:24:00.000-08:00

I’ve been doing a bit of research on the farm I’ve been writing about. That place is so strong in my memory that I often find myself focused on small, equisite memories rather than facts. Today I shall strive to be factual and not color my words too much with emotion.

I always found it quite intriquing that there are three different dates associated with the simple old farmhouse. One account says it was built in 1804 as part of a very large piece of land that was split into three parcels…two being sold to the two men attributed to founding the small town first platted on May 6, 1806.

Two other accounts show the house being built in 1813 or 1817.

The farmhouse was sturdy and strong and the vast scale of boards and beams attested quite clearly to the use of first growth hardwoods used in construction.

Hinges, door latches (there were very few doorknobs in the house or outbuildings) along with hand forged nails and hand-made glass were always unrefutable testiment to how long the house had stood.

Research shows that the area was initially settled primarily pioneers from Pennsylvania and New Jersey immediately followed by many Saxon immigrants.

I doubt that the house that we lived in was the original dwelling. The only surviving home from that time was a small log cabin located several miles away, and that is what I suspect stood originally at the top of the hill.

Living on the farm, we found a small ‘dump’ containing broken bottles and crockery, fire blackened bricks and old foundation stones at the edge of a tree line. I often suspected that the foundation stones and bricks might have come from the original dwelling.

Documents at the historical society supported the story of the Saxon brothers settling on the property and living there for many, many years. Perhaps that settlement occurred in 1813 or 1817. I’m not really certain.

What I am certain of is that during a horrible time of my life that farmhouse gave me comfort and the ability to find possibilities and dreams in almost utter blackness.

That farmhouse was my escape and my shelter.

I recognize intellectually that it was just walls and floors and windows and cupboards.

But emotionally I know it was more.

Living at that farm taught me that I can survive and find solutions to just about everything. Like the beams and the board I learned that sometimes enduring is just a matter of passing days…one after another…until you end up beyond the pain and the torment.

You stand bewildered and exhausted having endured the unendurable…

And you remember one of the things that horrible times makes you forget…

That you’ve really always been home in your own heart…

…and no person or circumstance can ever take that away from you.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday's letter "F". To read other offerings, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter F

2011-12-14T13:01:00.000-08:00

ALPHABE-THURSDAY PEOPLE!!!!!

HOLIDAY SCHEDULE! HOLIDAY SCHEDULE! HOLIDAY SCHEDULE!

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 22 - HOLIDAY LINK - Anything related to the holiday - recipes, decorations, stories, poems, pictures
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29 - HOLIDAY LINK - Anything related to New Years - recipes, decorations, stories, poems, pictures
THURSDAY, JANUARY 5 - RESUME REGULAR SCHEDULE WITH THE LETTER "G"

If you have questions, or need linked during this time, please e-mail me at jennymatlock at cox dot net and put 'Alphabe-Thursday HELP!' in the subject line.

Now...

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be frolicking with the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please share your fanciful F post now!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

2011-12-14T03:00:00.000-08:00

...

Somewhere...

But not here in the low desert.

It's been raining for a few days straight and all the trees with fall color are starting to turn...

...so while I'm decorating and playing Christmas music, I really feel like baking a pumpkin dessert and getting out all the Thanksgiving decorations instead!

I'm trying something new today...

2011-12-13T03:00:00.000-08:00

...because, quite frankly, I think I have writers block.

So...

I've been reading on other blogs how they do "Five things you don't know about me"...

and because I know that you know that I know that you don't know all that much about me...

(since I'm so reticent and all)

...I thought I'd share.

Okay.

Deep breath.

Here goes.

Number one.

Ummm...

Ummm....

Gosh. I don't think you would want to know THAT!!!!

Ummm...

Ummm...

Number two.

Okay. Well. Blush. Let's skip THAT one, too!

Number three.

Ha! AS IF I'D ACTUALLY WRITE THAT ONE DOWN WHERE SOMEONE COULD USE IT AGAINST ME!!!!!!!!

Number four.

Hmmm...

Hmmm...

It would be WRONG of me to burden you with this one. And if I told you, I'd have to kill you. And I already have enough to do on my 'how-the-heck-did-it-get-to-be-the-13th-of-December-already' list!

...

...

You're welcome.

And lastly, number five.

The fifth thing you don't know about me is...

...well.

Nothing.

I have nothing more to share here today.

I'm exhausted from all this revelation.

I need a nap now.

But...

I'm glad we had this little moment together.

Thanks for being here today. I hope I didn't share TOO much.

...

...

Sigh...

Grief on the shallow side of the spectrum

2011-12-12T03:00:00.000-08:00

I am in mourning.

I'm not wearing all black, although come to think of it I probably should. I've heard that it's very slimming.

I'm in mourning in a non-all-black-wearing kind of way.

It's my Le Creuset dutch oven, LC.

My Father killed it.

I'm trying to get over it.

I know that forgiveness is divine...

I know that he's not really a murderer.

But you don't understand.

It's the lime green dutch oven that has not been moved from my stove top in the past 9 years!

It has graced the top of my stove since Mr. Jenny gave it to me one extravagant Christmas.

I used that pan at least four times a week for all those years.

What is that? Something like (ummm... 4 times 52 times 9 carry the one... ummm...) 1,800 and something?

But now LC is gone.

I've tried everything to revive it.

Done all the fix-alls from google.

Called the manufacturer.

But LC is gone. Just gone.

Sniff.

Sniff.

It happened last week at the epic garage sale.

I was being all organized so I sliced some leftover roast into my dutch oven. I smothered it in barbecue sauce, turned my burner to the lowest setting and left it to simmer so the 'work crew' could have sandwiches for lunch.

Whenever I went inside I would swoon over the delicious smell and give it a quick stir.

At 10:24 am I was sitting by my Mom and sister in a garage filled with shoppers. I kept smelling something burning.

I had been in the house about 20 minutes earlier and stirred the pot then.

I told myself I would add up the pile of stuff in front of me and then go in and check when my Dad said, "Oh, by the way, I turned that pan way down so it wouldn't burn."

It took me a full millisecond before what he said registered. I jumped up, startled everyone in the garage by screaming,"Get out of my way!", and ran into my smoke filled kitchen.

My dutch oven was glowing red over the molten lava of the burner, heat shimmered over the pan.

I grabbed a dish towel and yanked my beloved LC off the burner.

I resisted calling 911 to come and try to resuscitate my lime green beauty.

My Dad came into the house and said, "Oh no! What happened? Why's there all this smoke in here?"

I told him he had turned the burner all the way up instead of turning it all the way down.

He looked mortified.

So, I lied.

I told him it was no big deal. He's old. And I love him. And I knew it would be wrong to hit him over the head with the pan lid.

Right?

That would have been wrong.

Right?

He said, "Oh no! I'm sorry!"

And I said, "It's okay. It's just a pan."

I lied.

I miss LC!

But after one week of trying to save it, it's time to admit it's really gone. (This not a picture of LC. To share that would be too painful, but this is pretty much how LC looked after the mishap.)

Time of death...7:14 pm.

Teary eyed, I started looking for a replacement about 7:15 pm.

The color is discontinued.

Who spends that much for a pan anyway?

It's just a pan.

But darn.

It's only been a week and I am already in withdrawal.

And no other pans come close to the bond between me and my lime green Le Creuset. No other pan has ever created the degree of deliciousness achieved in the harmonious relationship LC and I had. It went beyond woman and enameled cast iron. Way beyond!

...

...

I know that time will heal this wound...

And I know there's a lot worse problems in the world...

And I know that a lot of people don't even have anything to cook in a pan...much less a Le Creuset dutch oven.

...but darn.

darn, darn, darn.

Could you still observe a moment of silence for the death of my dutch oven?

It's been really hard saying goodbye.

Sniff.

Sniff.

Why?

2011-12-11T16:46:00.000-08:00

Because I have no health insurance
I cut my pills in half each day.
I always have more month than meds.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
My kids cried again last night at bed…
Not enough food to keep hunger at bay.
I always stretch but there’s never enough.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
My Dad always told me, “You hafta work hard,
When the sun is shining, make your hay!”
I’ve toiled and baled but I’m always behind.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
I’m looking for sunshine, I’m looking for hope,
I’m looking for something beyond skies of gray.
Tomorrow’s a new day, it’s gotta get better!
Why, pray tell, is it still this way?

This sad little query is linked to week 84 of Saturday Centus. The prompt (used three times) is in bold. To read other offerings, just click here.

Saturday Centus - It doesn't have to...

2011-12-10T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-four of Saturday Centus.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS A REGULAR ONE!
THE PROMPT IS: It doesn't have to be that way
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 100 words plus the 7 words of the prompt. 107 maximum words total
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
ONE PICTURE IF YOU LIKE4trong>

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

"How can you love me if you don't know...

2011-12-09T03:00:00.000-08:00

...how I feel about soup?" I asked Mr. Jenny.

It was 4:38 am.

I had awakened because I was darned closed to freezing. We had forgotten to turn the furnace on overnight again and it gotten down in the low 30's...

brrrrr...

So...

Of course I woke up and, of course, the first thing that came to mind was soup.

Actually it was the second thing that came to mind.

No.

Not that.

I'm old.

And it was cold.

The first thing that came to mind was to put my icy cold hands on Mr. Jenny's back to a) remind him that HE forgot to turn the furnace on overnight and to b) wake him up so he would talk to me.

After he yelped in delight and kind of snarled at me I knew he would be receptive to a cozy conversation tucked into our flannel sheeted, flannel quilted bed.

"So..." I said in a sweet and cuddly voice, "You don't even know if I like soup."

And he said, "Huh?"

And I said, "Seriously, how can you love me if you don't know if I like soup or not."

And he said, "Ummm...okaaaay. Yeah. You like soup. Now go back to sleep."

He attempted to turn over.

I refused to let him wiggle out of the conversation.

"Prove it. What kind of soup do I like."

He made a noise halfway through a snort of disgust and a swear word, but I was not so easily distracted from the subject at hand.

"What kind?" I challenged.

"Ummm...does this matter right now? Seriously? Do we have to talk about soup before 5 am?"

I almost let him off the hook, but then I replied, "Yes, yes we do. This is just another indicator that I love you more and that..."

He sighed.

Deeply.

"How, pray tell, does not knowing about soup mean you love me more?"

I sighed.

Deeply.

"Geez, keep up. Okay. I know that YOU like clam chowder and chili but you don't like soups that are well...ummm... soupier. And I know that YOU don't like that RED kind of clam chowder and only like the WHITE kind of clam chowder. See? See?"

He sighed again.

Even more deeply.

That guy really knows how to oxygenate his blood, I tell ya.

"Jenny. You like soup but NOT clam chowder of any color. Okay. So there! Now be quiet."

...

...

Was that an answer? I think not.

But far be it from me to intrude upon a husband who obviously loves me less than I love him and who is more interested in sleeping than discussing soup before 5 am.

So I huffed out of bed.

But he didn't notice because he went back to sleep.

Sigh...

So I wandered around the freezing house feeling a bit sorry for myself.

I muttered things like, "My next husband is going to know if I like soup or not. My next husband is going to remember to turn the furnace on. I think I'll google a recipe for RED clam chowder."

I paced and I shivered.

I shivered and paced.

I realized there was a small, infinitesimal possibility that I might have gone just a wee bit too far off on a tangent.

It was 5:09 am.

I was freezing.

I climbed back into bed with Mr. Snorey.

And just to teach him a lesson, I put my cold hands on my back.

You know.

So I could snuggle a bit closer.

Sigh...

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter E

2011-12-07T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be elucidating about the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please share your eloquent letter E post now!

Garage sales seem to ...

2011-12-07T03:00:00.000-08:00

...bring out the weird in some people.

Our son, who is moving to Texas, brought a van load worth of 'stuff' over on Saturday so we're repeating our epic garage sale of last weekend.

I like doing them.

I'm not sure why.

I really, really like talking to the everyone.

And my sister was here last week and that made it even more entertaining.

I'm still giggling over the angry lady who refused to let us give her a good deal on some linen table napkins.

She was angry when she got there and was kind of stomping around. She finally picked up a package of 8 green cloth napkins and carried them up to the 'checkout' table.

"Will you take two dollars for these?" she snarled.

"Ummm...actually those are only fifty cents," I said sweetly after checking the price tag.

"So you won't take two dollars? You won't come down on your price?"

"Ummm... lady," I replied nicely, "The napkins are ONLY fifty cents. Two dollars is too much but I'll be happy to take your two dollars if you insist."

She dug through her purse, flung two dollars at us, and stomped off.

Hee hee.

I'm still laughing at her. What a dork.

And there was the guy who wanted to buy a bunch of Christmas figurines. They were fifty cents each.

I told him, "For you, today only, there's a special deal. I'll give them to you at fifty cents apiece!"

Oh, he got excited. Excited I tell ya.

I went around and started gathering them all up.

He had 9 of them on the 'checkout' table.

"Fifty cents each, right?" He said proudly. I replied, "Yup, fifty cents each!"

He gave me five bucks.

I gave him fifty cents change.

He proudly carried them to his car.

A minute or so later he came back.

"Hey, you lied to me!" He said, "They were already priced at fifty cents! You didn't give me a good deal at all!"

I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Sir, I totally priced those at fifty cents just for you!"

And he gave me a big grin and walked away happy.

...

...

Hmmm...

Come to think of it...

Why do I like garage sales?

Is it for the vast sums of money we take in?

Or the interaction with charming and intelligent people?

Yeah.

Yeah, those are definitely the reasons.

Or maybe I'm just into self-torture.

And by the way...

If you're in the neighborhood on Thursday and Friday, stop in.

And bring your most snarly attitude with you.

I can handle it!

Sigh...

A Memory of Windows

2011-12-06T03:00:00.001-08:00

Is there anything lovelier than old window glass with the sun streaming through it?

It's reflections and refractions and imperfections add such dimension and texture to a generally cold and unyielding surface.

To live in a house with 21 windows and four doors and transoms constructed of that wondrous material was enchanting to me.

The windows were old and drafty...three panes of glass over a single larger pane with old rope-style mechanisms that caused even the most devout to curse at their stubborn resistance to being opened.

At Christmas each year, I fashioned 17 fragrantly fresh evergreen wreaths to adorn the windows with. Four larger wreaths were made for the doors. The four small attic windows remained undecorated. Even the die-hard Christmas decorating enthusiast that I was in those years, refused to climb a very, very long ladder for that purpose.

Situated alone at the top of a hill, privacy was not an issue and I had very few curtains in that house. I liked the windows bare.

The deep windowsills were another matter.

Those wide boards held all kinds of treasures. The downstair room windowsills were covered in rocks, feathers, and little bottles found in the plowed dirt of the garden. Antique books found homes there as well as crayons and rubberbands and all the clutter and chaotic overflow of a family home.

The second floor windowsills were adorned with things relevant to each room...toothpaste and kleenex in the claw-foot-tubbed bathroom. Puzzle pieces and childhood treasures in the children's rooms.

But the three windowsills in my bedroom held cobalt blue glass. Tiny bottles along the top ledges of the bottom windows, larger pieces clustered on the actual windowsills themselves. Blue glass ornaments hung randomly from fishing line filling in some of the panes of glass.

The bedroom walls were covered in very old forget-me-not sprigged wallpaper. Although faded, it was in perfect condition so it remained. Wide golden floorboards went well with the white painted furniture and simple, white chenille bedspread I decorated the room with.

It was a plain room.

Simple and sweet.

Until a certain time of year when the zenith of the sun created morning magic.

And then...

Oh my...

Pink and golden light filled those east facing windows. The old imperfections in the glass started sparkling like inset diamonds.

The glass became radiant and rosy.

And then...

Oh my...

For a few long minutes, the sunlight found the cobalt glass and set it aglow. That plain, sweet bedroom became a treasure chest gleaming with shards of sapphire, azure and indigo. The colored reflections danced on the walls. The windows gleamed and sparkled and light gathered in flashes against the glossy white woodwork like melted tourmaline and quartz.

I held my breath in those moments.

I could not look away. I tried not to blink.

It was so fanciful and lovely...

Like the bower of a Fairy Queen...

Or the light show of a dream...

I held my breath and let the magical display find its way into my soul...

...and then it was gone...

The windows still sparkled.

The blue glass still gleamed.

The morning sun still lit those East facing windows.

But the particular magic of those long moments had dispersed.

...

...

That's the thing about memory, really.

Times, places and faces might seem gone.

We grieve and try to hold onto childhoods slipping through our fingers, through parents closing their eyes for the last time, through saying goodbye to homes and loved ones.

We clench our fists and hold on so tightly that it hurts, when maybe all we need to do is close our eyes.

Close our eyes and let our souls find the memories...

...of something simple and sweet being transformed into the wondrous magic of our lives.

...
...

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursdays letter "E" for east facing windows. To read other "E" offerings, just click here.

Sometimes the kitchen help...

2011-12-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

...doesn't.

Help, that is.

Mr. Jenny and I had the grandlittles for an overnight on Friday night. We took them to see the Christmas lights at the Mormon temple here...

I wish I had some of the pictures of the reflecting pool to share with you. It is one of the most glorious sights imaginable...millions of twinkling lights reflected in the blackened, rippling pool of mirrored water and...

Oh...

Hmmm...

Yeah, that doesn't feel like much of a natural segue from kitchen help that isn't, does it?

Focus, Jenny.

Focus.

So...overnight, Christmas lights...blah, blah, blah...

And in the morning, little Mo told me she wanted to help me make scrambled eggs for breakfast.

I picked her up on the counter and gave her a bowl and two eggs.

She picked up one of the eggs and crushed it in her hand. Egg when flying everywhere!

"Mo! What are you doing?" I said. I was really surprised because I taught her how to crack an egg on the counter and she's been doing it that way for at least a year.

"Grandma! Watch this!" she replied excitedly. She then proceeded to crush the second egg in her hand.

"Mo! Stop that! What are you doing!?!" There was egg everywhere, dripping off the counter onto the floor to the great delight of Oskar the weiner dog.

"Grandma! Don't get mad. This is how PROFESSIONALS crack an egg! I saw it on TV. They do it exactly like this!"

"Mo! I don't think PROFESSIONALS crack an egg by squashing it in their hand. Do PROFESSIONALS make a big mess like that every time they crack an egg?"

She tipped her head to the right. She looked at the mess surrounding her. She tipped her head to the left and peered over the edge of the counter where Oskar waited in quivery anticipation.

"Wellll..." she finally conceded, "Maybe a five year old KID can't crack an egg like a PROFESSIONAL..."

She gave a big sigh.

"Grandma? I'm going to need two more eggs!"

You know how...

2011-12-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

...sometimes when you're waiting in the express lane at the grocery store with your fifteen items...

...and a lady with very red lipstick comes up behind you with one item...

...and she's all tapping her foot and clearing her throat impatiently?

...and so you say to her, "Look, obviously you're in more of a hurry than I am, why don't you just go in front of me?"

...and she looks at you all suspicious and narrows her eyes and asks, "Why?"

...and you say, "Wellllll...you just looked like you were in a hurry and I have fifteen things so I just offered...you know...to be nice. So you could get through the line faster."

...and she says, "Ummmm... well...."

...and then a lady wearing a sweat suit with a big, nasty looking spaghetti-sauce-like stain on the front of it...

...who has something like 43 items (43 I tell ya AND SHE'S IN THE EXPRESS LANE!!!!) in her cart kind of shoves in front of both of you while saying, "If neither of idiots are in a hurry, I'll go first!"

...and you and the lady with the very red lipstick look at each other and have a bonding moment over the rude, pushy, sloppy lady going through the express lane with 43 items?

And you know how when that happens you want to make a life analogy out of it...

...so when you tell the story, people will think you're all deep and zen-like, when really all you wanted to do was shove your grocery cart into the back of the rude, pushy ladies heels?

But you pretend for the sake of appearing to be in control (and because you're also a little afraid of the spaghetti-stain lady who looks really mean) that instead of being an annoyance, it was a moment of great self-discovery when you realized that life is too short to get annoyed at pushy people with spaghetti-sauce-like stains on their sweat shirts...

...and how all humanity is really joined together in a great desire to tattle on people who have waaayyyy more than 15 items going through the express lane...

...and that life as a whole is...

Huh?

What?

What was I saying here?

Oh geez.

Am I turning red!!!!!

I totally lost my train of thought here and it obviously derailed and continued willy-nilly down the wrong track with nobody in the engineers car...

I hate when that happens.

Gosh...

I'm sorry.

I was trying to impress you with my philosophical approach to such major life events.

And, sadly, I think I failed...

Totally and miserably.

...

...

I'm sorry you had to find out that I'm really not all deep and zen-like...

...

Especially when I'm in the express lane at the grocery store.

...

Sigh...

An offer I could possibly refuse...

2011-12-04T16:57:00.000-08:00

A million dollars to be sixteen again?

Hormones? Parents? Clearasil? Cramps?

Give me a second, willya?

This ultra-short 16 word tale is linked to week 83 of Saturday Centus. To read other offering for the prompt, just click here.

post signature

Saturday Centus - Sixteen

2011-12-03T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-three of Saturday Centus.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS THEMED ALL AROUND THE NUMBER SIXTEEN!
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 16 words and please write about when you were sixteen.
STYLE OF WRITING - Autobiographical
ADDITIONAL PICTURES IF YOU LIKE!

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

I know I'm wicked behind again. I'll be by, though, scouts honor!

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Semi-Wordless Friday

2011-12-02T03:03:00.000-08:00

Hmmm...

I think I botched that.

I think it's supposed to be Wordless Wednesday.

As if.

Seriously?

No words?

Anyway.

Before I start with the whole exhausting no words thing, I wanted to congratulate Miss Judie for winning the book giveaway at Campbell Lawson. To read about that (and to learn about a great deal on free shipping) just click here!

A now, moving on to even fewer words...

Here's a few pictures from when we met Anne from Annesphamily Blog! It was really hard to find where they were at and then harder still to find them amidst the sea of invitational runners and cheerers...but we persisted and finally found each other in time for a quick visit and hug! Anne is super sweet, her daughter is lovely and the husbands seem to hit it off as well.

And then a few pics of taking our Grandlittles to Boyce Thompson Arboretum for the Fall Festival. Lovely day filled with four of my favorite people in the Universe!

Thank heavens it wasn't semi-pictureless Friday!

TTFN!

A Memory of Dried Roses

2011-11-30T17:26:00.001-08:00

Tucked into the corner of the main room of the old farmhouse were two doors. One led down to the slightly, scary old stone basement…and the narrower one, tucked into the very corner, led up to a third story attic.

The doorway was narrow and the old hand-forged iron latch always stuck a little, generally requiring a thump with a fist and a well-placed kick or two.

To go through the doorway required hunching down a bit, and then maneuvering three, narrow pie-wedged steps before the passage straightened out. The remaining sixteen steps up to the attic were so steep it was difficult to carry anything. Over time, and with many, many trips up and down, I learned how to navigate that treacherous stairway without breaking my neck. But I’ll tell you more about those trips in a little while.

For now, I’d like to tell you about the first time I went up those stairs. When I emerged into the huge space at the top of the steps, I was so astonished I couldn’t move. Two narrow windows inserted beside an ancient red brick chimney helped illuminate the space through their small panes of wavy old glass. Five bare, low-wattage lightbulbs hung in a row from the center beam, each with a threadbare cotton string hanging down from it.

The amber and gold floorboards were incredibly wide and covered the entire length of the attic floor. Worn down in grooves at the top of the steps, you could literally see where hundreds of feet had trod over the years. The dark hand-hewn beams overhead were massive and joined together with hundreds of wooden pegs.

The air in the attic was faintly scented with the fragrance of dried herbs and old woodsmoke. The floorboards were bare and dusty.

I could feel the history of the house in that space. I could so clearly imagine all the other housewives before me drying herbs and storing treasures there.

I quickly learned that the drafty attic space was phenomenal for drying flowers and herbs. I gathered what I could find around the farm before the frost killed everything and filled one of the beams with carefully bundled bouquets. I had plans to sell the dried flowers to help in my perpetual quest for extra money.

The following spring I was fortunate to make the acquaintance of a commercial rose grower in a neighboring town. I had ordered quite a lot of roses for a wedding I was designing, and after I picked my order up on Thursday afternoon I discovered that the grower threw away all the unsold roses at the end of business on Saturday. Threw them away! I was aghast!

I offered to buy all the roses from him each week. He thought about it. “Well,” he said, “I’d have to let you take them away in the rose buckets and how do I know you’ll bring the buckets back?”

Thinking quickly I told him, “Look, I’ll pay you three dollars a bucket for the roses AND I’ll give you a deposit on each bucket!”

He thought for a few more minutes and then agreed.

Each bucket held around ten dozen tightly budded roses neatly rubber-banded together. By recutting the stems and giving each bundle of roses some breathing room, in three or four days I would have gorgeous bouquets of full, beautiful blossoms.

I was careful to hang the roses in the attic right before they bloomed fully. Each rubber band slipped neatly over the nails I had pounded into the low beams. And because the grower had prepared each dozen for commercial sale all the thorns had been stripped from the stems.

Some weeks the rose grower would have four or five buckets of roses for me. Some weeks he would have none.

But over the spring and summer months I dried hundreds and hundreds of bundles of roses in that attic.

It was beautiful and fragrant there. The slight smell of dried herbs and woodsmoke was taken over by the fresh, lovely scent of thousands of roses.

Each beam was a bower of roses in various stages of drying…gorgeous corals, sunny yellows, antique ivory whites, carmine red, pale apricot.

After the roses dried completely, I would slip them into plastic florist sleeves and pack them away in boxes arranged by color.

I made extravagant wreaths covered entirely in dried roses. I put beautiful ribbons around the sparkling cellophane. And every fall I would attend craft fairs and set up a booth filled with hundreds of bundles of dried roses. The colors were so beautiful and the roses were so perfectly preserved that my booth was always crowded with eager buyers. I rarely took any roses home.

Over the years, those dried roses paid for vacations to the ocean with my children. They paid for dentist visits and eyeglasses and sometimes they paid for the electric bill.

I write this memory now with tears on my face.

How blessed I was to have lived so many hours in a house with attic beams bowered in roses.

And how blessed I am that this dear memory has never faded.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday in honor of the letter D. To read other D posts, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter D

2011-11-30T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be discussing the letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please discuss your dynamic letter D now!

What's the big deal...

2011-11-30T03:00:00.000-08:00

...about a medical degree?

Really.

Just yesterday I got mine.

In one day.

Just a single day.

I about five hours accomplishing part of my Christmas to-do list.

Stamping, cutting, double-stick taping...

...and at the end of the afternoon...

I was officially a CARD-iologist!

Go me!

And please don't ask me for free medical advice.

I'm pretty new at this whole medical thing.

So, please ...

Just take two aspirin and call me in the morning.

Unless you want to come over right now and help me address all these Christmas cards!

...

...

Sigh...

Some disturbing news about socks...

2011-11-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

I cleaned out my sock drawer over the weekend.

Yeah.

I am totally into the high life here.

Big time.

I found:

9 black socks, six had holes in the heels or toes.

2 pairs of almost new striped socks that are itchy inside.

11 white socks...and I use the term 'white' very loosely.

1 pair of Ohio State socks with holes in the toe AND the heel. I've been holding onto them for about 15 years now for 'sentimental' reasons.

1 pair of Boise State socks because Mr. Jenny feels that if you're going to wear football socks they should be from BSU!

3 brown socks.

7 pairs of assorted holiday socks...who doesn't need socks with spiders, reindeers and/or Easter bunnies on them.

2 pairs of panty hose stuffed wayyyyy in the back all mangled and inside out. It appears the last attempt at trying them on went slightly awry.

1 belt. I have no idea whose belt this is. I haven't had a waist since 1981.

3 pennies.

1 bobby pin.

and a book of matches...

...perhaps so if I lose electricity I can still locate 1 of the 9 black socks without a hole in them.

The disturbing news is that...

Yeah.

I'm really truly writing about it.

And I'm not even a tiny bit sorry.

So there.

...

...

Sigh...

A Rose by any other name...

2011-11-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

So... Did I tell you we have a new Grandlittle on the way?

It's a boy. And he might be born on my birthday, April 19!!!

I'm excited! The kids haven't officially announced the name yet, but I suspect it's gonna be some form of 'Jenny'.

Right?
Not quite sure how they're gonna masculinize that name...

Maybe Jennster.

Or Jenniam.

Or even Jennielle.

I'm just hoping they don't try to tie my middle name in.

Yeah. Using the middle name 'Rose' would definitely be a stretch!

Sigh...

PS. It took me almost an hour but I think I figured out how to load this video so you can view it!

New career path!

2011-11-27T16:28:00.000-08:00

I was so nervous on my first day. I fiddled with the jacket of my suit and tugged at my panty hose. I glanced in the rearview mirror…checking my makeup…making sure there was no lipstick on my teeth.

Ten minutes early, I pulled in and pep-talked myself! “Okay, Miss Assistant Manager! Go get ‘em!”

The manager greeted me with a puzzled look. Handing me an apron he told me, “Your most important duty will always be the up-sell. Just remember that!”

A pimply-faced 16 year old behind the cash register said, “Get freakin’ real, dude! Just tell her to say ‘would you like fries with that?’”

This little hundred word story is linked to Saturday Centus. The prompt is in bold. To read other french fry queries, just click here.

post signature

Saturday Centus - Would you like...

2011-11-26T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-two of Saturday Centus.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS "Would you like fries with that?".
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 100 words plus the six words of the prompt. 106 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
NO ADDITIONAL PICTURES

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

I know I'm wicked behind again. I'll be by, though, scouts honor!

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Early Sundays with Steve - Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T08:09:00.000-08:00

This is Steve's Sunday post, but it seemed more relevant to post it today, the day after Thanksgiving.

These Sunday's segments are written by my husband, Mr. Jenny. Here's what he has to say about his posts:
I’ve been writing these weekly stories about life in Northern Idaho, as a youngster and as growing into a young man, primarily for our family. And I'm delighted to share them with you. Just between us, I’m anticipating being cranky when some whipper-snapper who may not even be born yet harasses me in 30 years or so with 'Grandpa, tell me about when you were a boy.' That will probably be after the mad cow disease has set in and erased whatever memory is left. So these are the not-so-dramatic adventures of a Baby Boomer in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.

Thanksgiving

Another Thanksgiving in the books this week, a smaller crowd than usual, and my annual BBQ turkey didn’t get done in time for the main course, but came in time as dessert. Fortunately our traditional oven-roasted boring turkey was cooked up in plenty of time for the main meal.

Boring perfect turkeys reminds me of my Aunt Eugenia, and of all of those Thanksgiving’s in the 1950’s and 1960’s at her house in our small town in Northern Idaho.

Every year, without exception, every single time, Aunt Eugenia massacred the turkey. She over-cooked it to the dryness and consistency of leather. Year after year the white meat was inedible; the juicy dark meat was not. It was obvious to everyone except her that she was secretly trying to make turkey jerky. In later years she laughed at her inability to cook a bird, but in the 1950’s, she was in fierce competition with her sister – my mother – to cook the best turkey. My mother (my father actually cooked it, but I think that was a secret at the time) would prepare the perfectly oven-roasted turkey to transport the short distance to Eugenia’s house for the late afternoon feast. The contrast of the two turkeys was always stunning.

Eugenia would be seem to be embarrassed and fume ever year that her bird was so dry, and that her sister out-cooked her yet again.

Aunt Eugenia (Genie for short) was kind of a strange duck: She was very prim and very proper, always dressed to the hilt, her house always picked-up and tidy, her language impeccable, her presence one of reserved elegance. But underestimate her or cross her at your own peril: Her glare, when you crossed the line of propriety, was like a death ray. Her pronouncements and judgments – out of the public view – were cutting, sharp, and decisive. You never wondered where Aunt Eugenia stood on anything, on any topic, on any view, and woe be to you if you disagreed with her pronouncement. And by the way, you had better shape up and behave yourself in her presence.

Thanksgiving was always at her house, while a month later Christmas dinner always at the Matlock madhouse. Thanksgiving usually consisted of us three rambunctious brothers and our parents, Aunt Eugenia’s two grown children who both lived still lived with her at the family home (one of whom for many years called us brothers ‘brats’, a term I still don’t like), Eugenia’s mother (my grandmother), and six or eight other adults that included several of Eugenia’s widowed lady friends. Mr. Eugenia had fled life with Eugenia in about 1950.

Eugenia always hired a bit of help for the holiday, usually someone in the kitchen to prepare the side dishes, the desserts, and then to clean-up the kitchen after dinner. For many years the help was a delightful lady named “Coxie”. Ida Cox was entertaining, energetic, and a fountain of local history of our town, most of which she had lived through personally. She stood no more than four-foot eight inches tall, thin as a rail, but with muscular arms. Coxie cooked on a wood burning stove at her small frame home until her death in 1970 at the age of 95. She was a master of home cooking, she delighted in making cakes and pies for her friends and neighbors, and often, if we were lucky, for the Matlock family. She fried chicken on Sundays, after chopping their heads off with a hatchet on Saturdays. She chopped the wood for her stove, and she never believed that gas or electric ovens did a very good job. She would chase us boys around Eugenia’s house when her cooking chores permitted, to the consternation of my aunt, and she befriended all of us brothers for years. She was a delight, one of those characters you never forget.

Eugenia’s son was Eugene (Cousin Gene) who I have referred to in many of these stories as my father’s partner in the local radio station and the radio news broadcaster for our small town.

It was Cousin Gene, my father, and my grandmother “Grambie” who were most vocal about Aunt Eugenia’s annual destruction of the Thanksgiving turkey --- year-after-year. Grambie would have one of her two cocktails a year (the other was always an eggnog before Christmas dinner) while Cousin Gene and my father would dip into the bourbon for a couple of shots before carving the two turkeys that would be resting at the kitchen table. The men would groan over the destroyed turkey as it crumbled under the carving knife, and they may have had another shot of bourbon in honor of Eugenia’s bird. Coxie would cackle and laugh at the poor bird while preparing the stuffing and green beans, and Grambie would sit on a kitchen step stool out of the way, sipping her drink, going “tisk, tisk, tisk” at the pulled pile of white turkey meat. It was really very funny, even to me at that young age. While that was going on, Brother David and I would steal pieces of dark meat to sample. In later years, when home from college for the annual turkey day massacre, Cousin Gene would sneak glasses of bourbon to David and me as well. He was a good cousin that way.

As a curious youngster, I always found it fascinating that there was a little button under the carpet of the dining room table Eugenia sat at the head of. If she needed help from the kitchen, she could press the button with her foot to activate a buzzer. Coxie would ignore her, of course, with a loud laugh, but in later years when Coxie no long cooked for the family, others came running. It was weird.

My mother was no great cook, although she tried. Her salvation at Thanksgiving was two-fold: i) In the late 1950’s Butterball turkeys came on the market that had the plastic doneness probe that popped-up when the bird was done, thus generally preventing over-cooking (Eugenia never figured that one out, one of those new fangled inventions that made no sense to her), and ii) Coxie in the kitchen preparing everything else.

I wish Coxie were alive today -- I’d invite her to dinner and I would fly her from Idaho to Arizona to join us, not to cook but to experience our modern but traditional Thanksgiving and to enjoy our family. I wish my father and Cousin Gene were alive to join us as well, to sneak a bit of bourbon, and to rightly judge whose turkey this year is best.

I wish you were coming too, because I know that you, along with all of our Thanksgiving day guests this year, are going to appreciate the finesse, the delicacy, the suberb nature of the masterfully prepared cherry-wood smoked turkey that will jointly grace our table on Thursday along with its boring counterpart, the perfectly oven-roasted bird.

A Memory of Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T07:04:00.000-08:00

It was early morning. It was that tingly cold that makes you put on your warmest slippers and flannel robe. As I headed downstairs I cursed my attraction to century-old farmhouses. Although we had tried mightily to seal old glass windows and run heating vents through almost petrified wood beams, the upstairs was always chilly, and even more so in late November with an early cold spell bringing snow and wind to upstate Ohio.

On the way to the kitchen I turned up the thermostat several notches. I turned on the kitchen light and the golden tones of the wooden cabinets and floors glowed. The double window over the kitchen sink reflected a light glittering of snow dusted pink, rose and gold from the first rays of the Eastern sun. The gnarled ancient apple tree branches silhouetted against the pale lavender morning sky cast their charm over me as they always did.

The pilot light on my old, white enamel stove was out again, but I struck a match and the burner glowed warmly in the still chilly kitchen. I checked that the oven pilot light was working and turned that on as well. In deference to the early hour I had left my cast iron skillet, biggest roasting pan and a basket of onions out on the counter the night before.

The refrigerator supplied the butter, celery and a fat turkey ready to be stuffed. Very soon chopped onion and celery were simmering away in butter and their savory scents perfumed the kitchen air. This was the smell of every Thanksgiving past in our family. It was the same scent I anticipated each year when my parent rose at dawn to begin the preparation of our childhood feasts. I can remember laying in my cozy bed and smelling Thanksgiving as it drifted through the house. I hoped my children were having those same feelings on this day.

My huge yellow-ware bowl, used only for preparing food in massive quantities, easily held all my bread crumbs, bread cubes and spices - pungent sage and black pepper, the coarse glisten of kosher salt, the soft, enticing smell of the marjoram. All of the scents combined in that big yellow bowl…ahhh, the fragrance of memories. Soon the onions and celery were tender and the chicken broth warmed and the dressing became moist and aromatic with their addition.

The kitchen had become warm and wonderful and soon the stuffed turkey was in for its long roasting time. The extra stuffing was in its buttered casserole with a scoop saved out inside my little pink stoneware bowl. Now it was time to make some coffee and then start the dinner roll dough rising, time to make the pie crust so it could chill for several hours, time to start chopping vegetables…

But first… a fresh cup of coffee and cream and a small pink bowl filled with stuffing needed to be eaten in front of the big windows overlooking the stark sculpture of winter apple trees and the rosy morning glow of the sky. The house was quiet, the wooly throw was warm on my lap, my children were safely asleep upstairs.

Later the house would fill with relatives and laughter and teasing and conversation. Pies, mashed potatoes, the magnificent turkey, flavorful stuffing, yeasty warm dinner rolls, and homemade jellies glistening like jewels would fill the table.

But for now, my coffee was perfect, the stuffing was savory, memories of all the Thanksgivings that had come before warmed my mind. This moment and this magic was my Thanksgiving.

.....

I still have the giant yellowware bowl. It sits on my counter filled with fruit and random bits of lifes overflow! On Thanksgiving when we have large gatherings it gets washed out and filled with stuffing. This year is only 14 for dinner, so its clutter remains!

Have a blessed day of Thanks, my friends, whether it is a holiday where you live or not.

This little sentimental post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday's 'We Gather Together'. To read other links, just click here!

Alphabe-Thursdays - We Gather Together

2011-11-23T13:00:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

It is Thanksgiving week here so we are on a short break. The letter D will resume next week according to the normal A-T schedule! Your post can be anything about being thankful or family gatherings.

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please feel free to share anything about family or giving thanks now:

Good morning!

2011-11-23T03:00:00.000-08:00

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, isn't it?

If you have a minute I'd like to share a wonderful song with you as you read this post. Wayyyyy down at the very, very bottom of my blog there's a playlist. I have the autoplay turned off. If you don't know the music of Patty Griffin (and you're not at work right now!) click on song 119...it's called Beautiful Day. The lyrics are amazing. And perfect to listen to on a day when many of us are thinking of gratitude. And facing lots of lifes difficulties.

Finally, finally we are getting some autumn color on our street. It's o-dark-thirty right now, so I can't take a picture, but there's actually red and gold trees turning on my street right here in the desert.

And if that's not exciting enough news...Thanksgiving is our middle Grandlittles birthday. She is turning eight.

Yeah.

I know. Crazy how quickly time goes by.

I've been trying to pretend she isn't growing up, but denial, sadly, has failed me a bit of late. I'm willing to let my personal suffering go, though, and make some cupcakes for her for Thanksgiving...I suspect she would be less than thrilled with candles in a pumpkin pie...silly girl!

Later today the link for Alphabe-Thursday will go up but it won't be for the letter "D". It will be for a link with anything to do with Thanksgiving or family gatherings. I know it's not Thanksgiving Day everywhere, but it is Thanksgiving day for me...because I am thankful for all of you who continue to brave the blather on my blog so often.

Thank you for doing that! I am, truly and without the smallest trace of sarcasm, thankful for your kind support as I continue 'off on my tangent' through life.

Tomorrow I'll put up my little annual Thanksgiving post...and gather with family and friends and celebrate this interesting, busy, crazy life.

Stop by if you get a chance, and if I don't see you, know how very much I am thankful for all of you!

Hugs from Arizona!

I am in the process of...

2011-11-22T03:00:00.000-08:00

...preparing for the most epic garage sale in the history of garage sales. In the world. Or at least in this hemisphere.

But before I whine too much about it I need to tell you that Alphabe-Thursday is on holiday break this week! There will be a linky on Wednesday for 'Holiday' or 'Family' Memories BUT we will resume the letter 'D' next week!

Okay, now that I got that out of the way I shall resume whining. Ahem.

There is not an uncluttered inch of space on my garage floor but friends and family keep dropping off more stuff.

Yeah.

I'm dumb.

I should have said drop stuff AFTER Thanksgiving, but I didn't...

So instead of writing a real post today I'm gonna just leave you with this...

HELP ME!!!!!

In addition to the heartfelt plea uttered above...and just to make you feel it was totally worth your while to stop by...

...

What did the mama turkey say to her naughty son?

If your papa could see you now, he'd turn over in his gravy!

...

If the Pilgrims were alive today, what would they be most famous for?

Their AGE

...

Why did the police arrest the turkey?

They suspected it of fowl play

...

Why can't you take a turkey to church?

Because they use such fowl language

...

See? Now aren't you glad you dropped by?!?

Sigh...

Knock, Knock...

2011-11-21T03:00:00.000-08:00

Who's there, you say?

Norma Lee!

Norma Lee who, you say?

Normally I don't eat this much but it is Thanksgiving!

Ummm...

Okay.

Did you like that one?

Not so much?

Seriously?????

Okay then.

How about this one?

Knock, Knock.

Who's there, you say?

Olive!!!!

Olive who, you say?!?

Olive the stuffing the best, too!

That was better, right?

Why are you groaning?

These were tip-top Thanksgiving (or any gluttonous holiday) knock-knock jokes!!!!

I'm sorry.

I think it's something in the water here.

Really.

Oh, and hey...

Knock, Knock!

Who's there, you say?

Didja!

Didja who, you say?!?

Didja read about the fun giveway for some nifty cool kids books?

If you missed that link, please don't be a turkey and click here to read about it!!!

Sundays with Steve - The Summer Campaign

2011-11-20T08:17:00.000-08:00

These Sunday's segments are written by my husband, Mr. Jenny. Here's what he has to say about his posts:

I’ve been writing these weekly stories about life in Northern Idaho, as a youngster and as growing into a young man, primarily for our family. And I'm delighted to share them with you. Just between us, I’m anticipating being cranky when some whipper-snapper who may not even be born yet harasses me in 30 years or so with 'Grandpa, tell me about when you were a boy.' That will probably be after the mad cow disease has set in and erased whatever memory is left. So these are the not-so-dramatic adventures of a Baby Boomer in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.

Campaigning with Steve

Did I ever mention how I got really interested in politics? It was spring 1970 when a knock on my apartment door in Pocatello, Idaho revealed Cecil Andrus, who had announced the prior month that he was going to run for governor of that rural, agricultural state.

It was another one of those watershed events that, in retrospect, changed my life, although at the time it seemed like a way to avoid the Vietnam War for a year or two, and to take a semester off from college. I really wasn’t intending to change my life.

Back then, state-wide campaigns started about three months before the primary, and maybe nine months prior to the general elections in November. Ah, the good old days of short election cycles!

I was 21 years old and finishing my junior year at the university, studying journalism. I was slated to attend U.S. Army boot camp that summer as a part of officer training – a prospect I was not looking forward to, not at all. I knew that a summer with the Army was the precursor to being sent into the Vietnam War after graduation, sent off with a bright second lieutenant’s bar on my helmet, a bar that I had heard the enemy liked to aim their rifles at.

I had known of the Andrus family for a number of years: They lived in our neighborhood in Lewiston, and “Cece”, as he was called, was my father’s insurance agent. His daughters were somewhat younger than I, and attended the same public schools. Prior to moving to Lewiston, Andrus was a lumberjack in the woods of North Idaho and Oregon.

Andrus asked me that day to join his media staff for the campaign that summer and fall, and I jumped on it. I chatted with the local Army colonel who was bright enough to see that a summer campaigning would certainly make me better able to stare down the Vietnamese when I got into the war a year later than planned.

I joined the Andrus state-wide campaign staff in late May, after classes ended for the summer. I packed up my meager belongings and drove to Boise, the state capitol, where the Andrus group had set up their office. I found a place to live by sharing a small house with three college buddies for the summer, and eagerly reported to work.

I was assigned to the media manager, John Hughes, a Lewiston television news reporter who also took the summer off to join Andrus. The full campaign staff numbered about six, and all had Lewiston ties.

I was expecting to write press releases and distribute them, join policy discussions, and hob knob with the rich and powerful of the State. That didn’t happen.

I spent the summer driving the politician from event to event, standing in the wings to keep him on a tight schedule, and passing out brochures while the candidate was shaking hands and meeting people. We covered the state many times over that year, driving the winding mountain roads in the North to the potato fields in the East, 500 miles in each direction from Boise, piling thousands of miles on the Andrus family station wagon. We spent weeks away from “home” in Boise, campaigning in the many small towns of the state, and the few small cities, too (there weren’t any large cities then, outside of Boise’s population of 60,000, the next largest town had 35,000).

It wasn’t what I was expecting – I was anticipating an intellectual summer of influence building – but it turned out to be hard work, long days and weeks on the road, pushing a candidate , listening to his frustrations and joys, and being a good sport about everything, no matter the circumstance.

We typically stayed in people’s homes while traveling, to save precious campaign funds. We ate in more cafes and diners than you can count, and I think we attended all the county fairs and rodeos in the state that year – all 44 of them.

When we drove into any of the small towns where we stopped, typically a local supporter had arranged for a “meet and greet” gathering, where ten to a hundred people might have gathered to meet and hear the candidate Andrus. We would always run the candidate to the local radio station, stop at the local daily or weekly newspaper for an interview and to plant a few prepared photos, then move on to the next town, the next event. We would find the local television station too, if the town had one (there were only about five TV stations in the state, then).

The staff back in Boise would arrange our schedule to the minute, while banging out press releases, organizing supporters, and mailing thousands of letters and promotional material.

Andrus had won the primary election early in the year, and we were in a tight race to unseat the incumbent governor, Don Samuelson. This was the second time Andrus ran for governor, losing to the same Mr. Samuelson four years earlier.

We won that election of 1970, beating the Republican governor by five percentage points, in what was historically a conservative, Republican state. Andrus was the first Democrat elected in that state in decades, and he went on to win four terms over the next 20 years. He also served as Jimmy Carter’s Secretary of the Interior.

From my viewpoint, that election campaign changed many things in my life, and changed my destinies: Instead of accepting a job on the new governor’s staff, I returned to college the next semester to get my degree (it turned out to be two degrees, as the University gave me a lot of credits for working on that campaign, no doubt to impress Andrus and keep their state budgets well funded). The campaign experience delayed my entry into the Army by a year, and hence I was not sent to Vietnam as that war was winding down. That campaign created a love of observing politics, which helped drive my future media career which is still on-going. And that campaign experience gave me the confidence to run for public office 12 years later.

It’s funny how fate can intervene in life – my decision to go to the particular university I did, a decision to chair a college convention one year that as a result, lead to the Andrus campaign offer – decisions that are made today that really do have unintended consequences, good and bad, years later.

(c) 2010 Stephen J. Matlock. This publication is the exclusive property of Stephen J. Matlock and is protectedunder the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Stephen J. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Saturday Centus - We Gather Together...

2011-11-19T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty-one of Saturday Centus.

The challenge for this week is in the spirit of the season.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS 'WE GATHER TOGETHER TO ASK THE LORD'S BLESSING'.
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 100 words plus the eight words of the prompt. 108 words total.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
UP TO THREE PICTURES TO ILLUSTRATE YOUR WRITING

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Good luck!

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

A fun literary giveaway!

2011-11-18T03:00:00.000-08:00

So.

A lot of you know Miss Terra who is often found Sitting on an Oak!

Well...

Miss Terra has been busy writing up a storm and has published three wonderful children's books!

These are hard bound little beauties and the carefully crafted words and messages are brought to life with adorable illustrations that will capture the imagination of both child and adult.

When we had our Grandlittles over the weekend I got some wonderful pictures of them cuddled up with Grandpa in their fuzzy pj's while he read these books to them. All four of them enjoyed the special time together.

However.

My picture file became corrupt and I had to do a poor recapture in the parking lot at Sonic when I picked them up after school for a rootbeer float treat. Please pretend these are softly lit, cozy night-time pictures.

Now for the fun part!

Terra is giving away all three of these wonderful books to one lucky winner.

For a chance at winning, please visit Terra's publishing blog by clicking here.

There are three different books on her site featured on the top toolbar.

To be entered for a chance at the giveaway, please leave a comment on the 'Welcome Jenny Matlock friend' page on the linked site.

For three ADDITIONAL chances at the giveaway, please visit each book link and tell Terra what you like about the theme of the individual book in a comment on the welcome post.

AND...

For every book ordered you will receive ONE ADDITIONAL change at the set of three books! Just leave an additional comment for each book ordered telling her you did!

In addition to the prize of three books, I have a little prize I'll send you myself from this giveaway. I'll draw from the same comments Terra will.

I won't say what it is, but you'll like it.

Unless you're weird.

And I know you aren't weird because...well...I just know it, okay? Please don't make me attempt to explain myself. It get's ugly when that happens.

So...

Here's a quick recap of the giveaway:

1. No Grandlittles of mine are included as prizes. Sorry. They're mine. All mine.
2. Leave a comment on the Campbell Lawson welcome page for one chance at the giveaway.
3. Leave an additional comment regarding each book after you visit the links at the top of the Campbell Lawson welcome page. (3 additional chances)
4. Leave an additional comment on the Campbell Lawsom welcome page if you place an order. (up to 43 million additional chances. If you order more than 43 million books I think there might be a small problem!)
5. Drawing will be conducted with the help of Mr. Random Org on Wednesday November 30th so the books have time to get to your doorstep before the holidays. Winner will be announced both on Terra's blog and mine!
6. Winner will be notified via e-mail so be certain you leave a way for us to get hold of you!

Let's help Terra have a wonderful book launch. Please tell your blog friends and family about the giveaway. I can't give you more chances for that because I'm already almost out of fingers and toes to count.

BUT...

I would be forever grateful!

Which doesn't really count for much but, hey, someday if I join the mafia or something it might actually be a valuable relationship, ya know?

Good luck everyone!

PS. If by some teeny/tiny possibility you are confused, leave me a message here and I'll try to write another thousands words or so to explain even more!

A Memory of a Tree

2011-11-17T05:32:00.000-08:00

I’ve never been much of a geography buff, so when I heard the word Transylvania it seemed like a mystical, mythical place to me.

In the world before googling, it was hard to conceive that my little farmstead in rural Ohio could actually be associated with anything or anyone from that far off, slightly ominous sounding place, but it was.

One morning shortly after we moved in, I went outside and was surprised to discover an ancient little man sitting on the rickety porch swing hanging from an enormous tree in front of the old house. The swing had been one of the delights that had helped entice us into purchasing the rundown old farmstead.

We’d already encountered a few surprise visitors since we’d moved into the old farmhouse so I had no hesitation in approaching him. “Can I help you?” I asked.

He enquired about the previous owner, and I told him that the gentleman who had lived there had passed away and we had just purchased the house.

He nodded his freckled, balding head and closed his wrinkled, parchment eyelids for a moment.

“I thought that might have happened. He was a good man.”

I observed a moment of silence with him in memoriam.

“Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” I eventually continued.

“No, no, not really,” he replied after a long pause. “I just like to come here and sit under this old tree sometimes.”

Torn between wanting to be polite but also wanting to get started on my very long list of chores, I finally suggested he just sit as long as he wanted. I offered him a cup of coffee. He declined. Finally I held out my hand and introduced myself. “I’m Jenny,” I said, “Come and sit under the tree whenever you like.”

Instead of shaking my hand and releasing it, he held on. His hand seemed frail and gnarled, its paper-skinned surface road mapped with veins and age spots, but his grip was firm.

“You know,” he said, “I would like some of that coffee after all and then I want to tell you about this tree.”

I filled mugs in the kitchen… cream and sugar for me – black for him, please… and rejoined him on the swing.

We sat and sipped and rocked for a bit and then he told me a story of two brothers who came to the United States from Transylvania.

“It was a long, long time ago. Maybe 1811, 1812. They were Saxons, you know, and every good Saxon has to be around a Carpathian walnut tree so they don’t get homesick. They each carried a seedling under their coats. One seedling died. The other travelled all the way across the country. The brothers took turns watering the surviving seedling and keeping it safe. Finally after months and months of travel the brothers discovered this ground. Virgin ground with deep, black topsoil and before they even built this old farmhouse they planted the seedling.”

He took a few sips of his now cooling coffee. I filed away the odd names in my head…Transylvania, Saxons, Carpathian Walnut.

Pointing down the hill he continued, “There’s a spring over that little hill and the brothers watered this little seedling every day. Every day. And finally the tree started to grow.”

I tipped my head back and looked up into the vast spreading boughs . I looked at the immense trunk and remembered my amazement when we were looking at the property for purchase that my three small children and I could not circle the girth of the tree with our joined hands.

I had no idea if his story was true but it captured my imagination and my heart. It seemed fanciful to imagine a tiny seedling carried and protected on a treacherous journey across ocean and land.

Each time I went in and out of the house I would look at the tree.

I don’t think I had ever seen a tree quite as majestic.

I watched it through several seasons…enjoying the sculptural branches in the winter and the delicious thin shelled walnuts each autumn.

Once in awhile, I would see the old man outside, sitting and rocking.

Sometimes I would talk to him, sometimes I would simply wave.

One summer day there was a knock on the porch door.

I opened it to find three gentleman in short-sleeved blue shirts. One held a clipboard. All had little name badges on.

“Are you the owner of this property?” Mr. Clipboard enquired.

“Yes, and you are?”

“We’re with the Horticultural Department at Ohio State University. We’re measuring some of the rarer, non-native trees in the state to approximate how old they are. You have several trees on your property.” He pointed toward the lovely walnut tree. “This tree is a Carpathian Walnut tree. This genus is native to Transvylania. Would it be okay if we take some measurements?”

I was fascinated.

I watched them measure the trunk and set up some odd little surveyors tools in the yard to estimate the height of the tree.

They then repeated the process with an ugly and unusual, skyscraper-high pine tree at the edge of the driveway.

They told me about the pine tree. I can’t actually remember what they said. That tree had never been a favorite of mine…and I had certainly never gotten dreamy eyed over the tale of how it got there.

Then they told me about the walnut tree. “We estimate this tree to have been planted between 1800 and 1815 based on growth patterns in other trees in the state we’ve measured. The family that settled this farm was most likely Saxon. So far we’ve found two slightly bigger specimens in the state but this is certainly a beautiful tree, enjoy it.”

They gave me a business card, shook my hand and took their leave.

I was a little surprised.

What I thought was a legend was actually a true story.

I waited anxiously for the little old man to come and visit so I could tell him what I had learned.

He never came again.

But I suspect even if I would have told him, he would not have been surprised.

I can hear his voice in my memory, “Two Saxon brothers came from Transylvania…”

And I can still imagine the scene in my mind, “…and they each carried a Carpathian Walnut seedling under their coats.”

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday in honor of the letter C. To read other C posts, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter C

2011-11-16T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be cavorting around the cuddly letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please share your cute post about the letter C now!

So, you know how...

2011-11-16T03:00:00.000-08:00

Somebody tells you they're gonna do something and then they don't and you want to say to them...

YOU ARE A BIG FAT LIAR!

...but you're much too nice to say something so mean to someone who is sweet most of the time except when they are being a

BIG FAT LIAR!!!

I'm hoping you feel that way today...

Because.

Yeah...

Sigh...

I AM A BIG FAT LIAR!

I told you yesterday I was going to do a giveaway today but since today is the day I post the link to Alphabe-Thursday's letter 'C' (exhale, inhale - that was a long sentence and I ran out of hot air!) I didn't want to make the giveaway less exciting.

Because...

EVEN THOUGH I'M A BIG FAT LIAR...

The girl whose work I am featuring for the giveaway deserves her very own day...and not just the morning before the afternoon of Alphabe-Thursday.

You know?

You understand, right?

Right?

Trust me.

It's a neat giveaway.

It involves things with paper inside and hard covers on the front and back and the only other clue I can give you is that it's by someone whose blog you probably follow already.

And no.

It's not mine.

Because what would I possibly write on paper and put between front and back hardcovers?

The autobiography of

A BIG FAT LIAR!!!!

I think not.

But stay tuned for Friday.

And please don't tell me the story about the little boy who cried wolf because that story was about a totally different kind of

BIG FAT LIAR

and it doesn't apply here at all.

So there.

Do you want the good news first...

2011-11-15T03:00:00.000-08:00

...or the bad news?

...

...

Waiting.

Waiting.

Aren't you going to pick?

Okay, fine.

I'll pick for you.

Bad news it is.

Ummm...

Did you know that Thanksgiving is NEXT WEEK?!?

I'm not kidding.

Really.

Look at your calendar. Next Thursday is Thanksgiving!!!!

How did that happen.

Geez.

We always have it here so let me say I was a teensy/weensy bit shocked when I discovered this disturbing news.

Are you okay?

...

Are you sure?

...

Okay.

Now for the good news.

Do you know that there are actually 40 days until Christmas!

Forty!!!!

Isn't that cool?

Isn't that...

Wait.

Hey.

Hold on a second here.

Let me count something...

ACCCCKKKK!!!!!

This isn't good news.

This is bad news.

40 days!

And the only Christmas shopping I have done is candy for stockings that I bought on sale after Halloween.

...

...

Okay.

I'm officially depressed now.

This whole bad news, good news thing didn't work out exactly as I had planned.

But I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Sigh...

PS. COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE START OF AN EXCITING GIVEAWAY!

Grandma! Beware!

2011-11-14T03:00:00.000-08:00

So...

If you've been reading my blog for awhile you've seen this little girl a time or two...

Our youngest Grandlittle who started to Kindergarden in August.

She and her sisters were off school for Veterans Day and spent the day and overnight with us.

Those three Grandlittles are the best medicine anyone in the world could hope for...

...especially when they hug and kiss you and write you notes!

Late in the afternoon, Miss Mo went into my office and spent a l o o o o o n n n g time in there.

Every time I walked by the door she shouted, "Don't come in Grandma! It's a surprise!"

Finally she surfaced when I was just finishing up cooking dinner.

"Grandma, please sit down, I have a letter for you," she told me in a very serious voice.

I sat at the kitchen table and she handed me a folded up piece of paper.

I picked her up and sat her on my lap and said, "Wow, you wrote me a letter, Mo! That's really cool."

"Welllll, Grandma, I did write you a letter BUT I don't know what it says."

"Okay, Mo," I replied, "How did you write me a letter if you don't know what it says?"

"Grandma! I put down a whole bunch of letters and numbers and then I signed my name!"

"Well, that sounds neat," and I started to unfold the note.

"Wait! Wait! Grandma! Beware! Beware!!!!"

"Beware?" I inquired, "Beware?"

"Yes, Grandma! Beware! There are a lot of periods and commas in the note, too!"

And I carefully unfolded the note and, by golly, there were a lot of periods and commas in there, too.

Thank heavens she warned me to beware!

Sigh...

post signature

Sundays with Steve - NOT!

2011-11-13T03:00:00.000-08:00

So... late Saturday afternoon after Mr. Jenny and I had worked through about 23 1/2 million items on our to do list, I said, "Did you send me your Sunday post?"

And Mr. Jenny said, "I'll write it on Saturday."

And I said, "Today is Saturday."

And Mr. Jenny said, "No, it isn't, it's Friday."

And I said, "Ummmm...hellllooooo...it's Saturday. Remember yesterday you walked out to the mailbox and there was no mail and you tried to go to the bank and there was no banking and that was because it was Veterans Day which was on Friday?"

And Mr. Jenny said, "Oh yeah. Saturday."

And didn't give me a post anyway.

So here ya go.

A non-Sunday's with Steve post.

And since it's technically not my day to write anything, I'm signing off now!

So there!

post signature

Saturday Centus - A different view

2011-11-12T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to week eighty of Saturday Centus.

You know how at the beginning of the week you make a to do list that has about six items on it and it contains things like "catch up on all your past due SC links" and then life gets extremely ... ummm.... well... life-y, and you don't get around to anything at all on your to do list?

Yeah.

Well.

Okay.

Then you kinda/sorta understand why I haven't been around to visit you.

BUT!

I promise I'll get caught up.

You're not forgotten.

I love you guys... man.

Which is why I'm giving you another easy-peasy prompt this week.

Because I'm nice like that.

And because ... well... frankly it's all I could think of on a Friday night after 7 days of almost total insanity.

So...

Here's what's shakin' this week for your challenge.

We're doing another picture prompt this week...with a twist! But it's the same twist. Just different. Let's see what happens when we continue the same story from a slightly different point of view. See the little kid with the hot pink circle around her? Write her story.

THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS THE ABOVE PICTURE. YOU ARE WRITING THIS GIRLS STORY.
WORD COUNT - Not to exceed 100 words.
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
NO ADDITIONAL PICTURES

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Good luck!

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

Thank you...

2011-11-11T11:35:00.000-08:00

...to all who have fought and continue to fight for our freedoms...

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae

A Memory of a Barn

2011-11-09T19:29:00.000-08:00

The first time I walked down the hill to the barn, I tipped my head from side to side trying to make sense of the structure.

There was absolutely nothing square or horizontal on the entire building. Some ancient boards were sagging to the left, some were sagging to the right and the old doors and windows seemed ready to fall out of their frames completely.

I didn’t care. I thought it was charming. And I totally disregarded my husband’s idea of throwing some gasoline and a match on it.

For doors that seemed so rickety, they were certainly stuck tight. I pulled and tugged and pulled and tugged and finally collapsed onto the ground when the grimy door hinges pulled away from the rotting wood.

I took a few hesitant steps forward and stopped.

I was enchanted.

Ragged holes in the ceiling allowed beams of light to illuminate the space. Disturbed by the commotion of my dramatic entry, dust motes swirled and glittered through the air.

I sniffed. The space smelled of old, wet hay and damp wood.

The structure was clad in old hand-planed boards. The width of the boards spoke clearly of the age of the building…most were over two feet wide.

Rusted metal relics gleamed in the dust filled air.

A tractor wheel, a beat up old wheelbarrow, some old buckets and pails, an anonymous farm implement almost reduced to a mound of textured red iron oxide.

I tread warily across the floor to a large opening that led to a slant-ceilinged section of the dilapidated building. Large, leathery looking leaves hung on the walls. It took some long moments before I was able to puzzle out that they were tobacco leaves…harvested and forgotten many, many years ago.

In the corner of that section of the barn were three metal buckets. I noticed they were filled with straw but paid little attention to their contents.

Oh my friends, I explored that old barn until my heart was content. More than a few interesting artifacts got dragged up to decorate flower beds or a random window sill.

Because we were busy getting settled, it wasn’t until the following spring that I decided to actually clean the old barn out.

My husband heaved all the windows and doors open and let the fresh spring air breeze through the musty space.

I hauled load after load out to a burn pile, saving particularly beautiful pieces of wood and interesting looking snippets of random metal.

Toward the end of the long, dirty exhausting afternoon I attempted to haul the rusted metal buckets outside as well. Their bottoms collapsed as soon as I tried to pick them up, leaving a spill of gnarled roots tangled in straw on the dirt floor of the barn.

I stood puzzled for a moment until I realized they were iris rhizomes. Many were powdery and dried out, but some were still plump and filled with life.

Gaining a burst of energy in my enthusiasm, I sorted and culled and filled the wheelbarrow with the most hopeful of the roots.

The next day, I excitedly worked up an overgrown perennial bed beside an old shed, forking in wheelbarrow loads of old composted manure I had also rescued from inside the barn.

The rhizomes were planted carefully in their new home and forgotten in the rush of all the chores associated with spring on an old farm.

Until one glorious afternoon when I had a few moments to spare.

I walked to the shed under the huge canopy of the century old buckeye tree and stopped in astonishment.

Not only had the iris rhizomes survived, they were starting to bloom!

I was amazed that something forgotten inside a dark rotting bucket had survived years and years of neglect.

The iris continued to beguile me over the next several weeks…unfurling petals of a particularly charming shade of purple one day and a buttery golden glow the next.

...

Even now on dark and dreary days of the heart, I remember those iris rhizomes…forgotten, neglected and almost discarded.

How amazing it is to remember the message they taught me.

How reassuring to recall that even when all feels lost, there is still the possibility of possibilities waiting to emerge.

This post is linked to Alphabe-Thursday in honor of the letter B. To read other B posts, just click here.

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter B

2011-11-09T13:01:00.000-08:00

Good morning class. Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday!

Today we will be bellowing about the beautiful letter:

Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and try to visit at least 10 other students (perhaps the 5 students before and after your post). The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please bring your best letter B now!