The True Christmas Story

When I was a little girl, we were enrolled into a private Christian school close to our house. I was about five or six years old when I was in my first Christmas play at school, and me and a classmate named Shannon were chosen to recite the Bible's Christmas story dressed as shepherds while the rest of our classmates reenacted each scene on stage around us. We had the bright star of Bethlehem hanging high above our heads and there were angels, shepherds, Mary and Joseph and the sweet baby Jesus. Shannon and I spent weeks memorizing Luke 2 verses 1-20 and the night of the play, he and I took turns reciting verse after verse. To this day, I can almost recite it verse-for-verse:

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caeser Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.

And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be taxed with Mary, his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, "Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you, Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."

And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will toward men!"

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, "Let us now go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known to us."

And they came with haste, and found Mary and Joseph and the babe lying in a manger.

And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.

And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.

And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

Rude Awakening

Our middle donkey, Clementine, decided she was thirsty at the ungodly hour of 4:30 this morning! It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't 16 degrees outside, but since it was, the water in the trough was frozen and she couldn't get a drink. So, Clemmie being Clemmie, in frustration bang-bang-banged her foot against the galvanized water trough and woke the whole dang neighborhood!

Reluctantly, up out of my nice warm bed I got and trudged out to the barn to stop all the racket. You'd have thought the world was coming to an end the way she was carrying on! Why was she even up this early? It was pitch black outside and the sun hadn't even begun to peek it's head up, yet here she was standing by the trough banging away with her foot.

I grabbed a shovel from the barn and broke the ice in the trough so she could get a drink. In the process, of course the other two donkeys woke up too and decided they were hungry, so they all three started bellowing for food. It's mornings like this that I regret the decision to ever have animals and live on a farm! Sheesh!

A few minutes later all three jackasses were chomping away on their breakfast, so I made my way back into the house and crawled back under my toasty warm electric blanket. I guess today I better go to the farm supply store and find a heater for the water so it won't freeze up again the rest of this Winter. I always say I'm going to buy one in the Spring and I never do. Knowing my luck, I've waited too long and they'll all be sold out.

Something makes me think I'll be answering the gong of the foot-banging donkey again tomorrow morning. Ugh!

November Ends

I can't believe today is the last day of November. Where did the month go? Seems like just yesterday it was Halloween and I was carving my pumpkin on the front porch, and now Thanksgiving has already come and gone and tomorrow is the first day of December! Seems like the older I get, the faster time goes by. You blink and you miss a whole month!

The day after Thanksgiving I was already hearing Christmas carols on the radio and all along my route to work each morning, more and more houses are popping up covered with wreaths and ribbons, garland and bows and millions of blinking lights. Seems like all the neighbors along Main Street are competing for their spot in the latest issue of Country Living magazine as each one tries to out-do the other. It makes me feel kinda guilty that I have a whole closet full of unopened boxes of Christmas lights that we've never even used. We bought them one year when they were on 90% clearance the month after Christmas and thought for sure we'd light up the hollow the following Christmas, but for whatever reason, we never seem to get around to using them. I decorate the porch and mailbox every year, but that's about it. I'm not very adventurous, I guess. We have enough twinkle lights to wrap around all the trees, cover the roofs of both the house and barn, and light up all the bushes, but is sure seems like a lot of work to go through. Especially when you consider December will probably fly by just as fast as November did and before you know it, it's time to take it all down again. Too much work for me! Or should I say, too much work for Hubby, since he's the one that would be climbing up on the roof. I can understand how some folks leave their lights up all year long. I used to think they were lazy when I'd drive by in April and they still had them up, but now I'm beginning to realize how smart they really might be!

Things That Go Bump in the Night

In the spirit of Halloween, I write you this little story. . .

It was a dark and windy night as Abby made her way down the street. She probably should have accepted a ride home from Mr. Endicott, but the guy gave her the creeps and she decided to take her chances walking home. She loved babysitting his kids, but on more than one occasion she'd caught Mr. E staring inappropriately at her chest and like I said, the guy gave her the creeps. So, here it was well after midnight on a Saturday night and Abby was making her way home.

The wind had really picked up and was blowing leaves across the sidewalk. Occasionally Abby would hear a tree limb creaking in the wind, or a loose shutter banging against a house as she walked up the block. The air was getting cooler and Abby could hear thunder off in the distance as the rain the Weatherman had been promising, made its way into the area. Abby hoped she'd make it home before the rain started coming down.

Maybe she should have chanced the ride home with Mr. E after all, but it was a little late to be changing her mind now. A dog howled in some body's backyard and Abby just about jumped out of her skin! She pulled her jacket closed tighter around her and picked up the pace, hurrying across the street. She had about eight blocks to go, but it seemed like it was taking her forever. The closer she got to her own neighborhood, the darker it became because the area she and her Mom lived in, didn't have as many houses and had no street lights.

There was a big cemetery separating one neighborhood from the other and Abby was coming closer to that just as the first fat drops of rain started splashing down. Abby never walked through the cemetery but always chose to walk around it, regardless of whether it was night or day. Cemeteries had always given her the eebie jeebies and this one in particular was especially foreboding as it was surrounded by a high stone wall that seemed to block out all civilization. When you were standing in the cemetery, it was like you were in a different world.

Abby had grown up hearing all the stories and legends from the old timers about the ghosts and spirits that haunted the cemetery. She knew of the superstitions about visiting the cemetery after midnight, but the rain was really starting to come down hard and taking a shortcut through the cemetery would get her home quicker. The entrance gates were locked at dusk to keep the neighborhood kids and troublesome teens from coming in and causing mischief, but Abby was a small girl and knew she could squeeze through a gap in the gate if she stood on her tiptoes and raised her arms above her head. She took a deep breath for bravery and made her way through the gate and into the cemetery.

Once inside, it seemed so much darker and quiet. Even the wind seemed to still and the moon went behind some clouds making the path through the headstones barely visible. Gravestones loomed around her as Abby made her way down the pebbled path. She tried not to look to either side, for fear of what she might see. One particular tale the old timers liked to spin was that if anyone dared make their way into the cemetery after midnight, they stood the chance of having a restless spirit or demon latch onto them and it would follow them home where it would haunt them forever. Abby tried not to think of this as she hurried down the path, but it was impossible not to be freaked out by the possibility.

Halfway through the cemetery a cat jumped from one headstone to another, hissing and spitting at Abby. Obviously the cat was just as startled by her presence as she was of it. Abby's heart was thumping in her chest so loudly that she was sure if anyone were to be standing nearby, they'd hear it pound. She heard a sound behind her on the path and turned quickly around to nothing but eerie blackness. The hair stood up on the back of her neck and a chill ran down her spine. She had the frightening feeling she was being watched. Probably the cat, following her through the cemetery. At least that's what she tried to convince herself of.

Finally, Abby was nearing the end of the path and in a matter of seconds she was up and over the exit gates and back out onto a neighborhood sidewalk. Just a few more minutes and Abby would find herself safely home, so she breathed a sigh of relief and hurried on her way.

The rain was slowing but the wind was still swirling leaves all around her. She could see her house down the block, but was disappointed to notice the porch light wasn't on and her Mom's car wasn't in the driveway. She must have had to work another double shift at the all-night diner, which meant her Mom wouldn't be coming home until morning.

Abby made her way up the steps and fumbled in her pocket for her house key. She came up empty in both jacket pockets and started to panic. Maybe she dropped the key when she climbed over the fence at the cemetery! She had that feeling again that someone was watching her and she looked over her shoulder into the yard. Was that someone standing behind the oak tree? Was that a figure in the shadows? She dug her hand into the front pocket of her jeans and there was the key! She jammed it into the lock and threw open the door, heart beating wildly. Just as she stepped over the threshold, a gust of cold wind blew in behind her and she slammed the door closed and threw the deadbolt, locking out the world. Safe at last!

Abby hurried up the stairs, flicking the light switch as she walked down the hall to her room. The light fluttered and snapped off with a poof! Darn! Darkness again! She made her way to her room, where thankfully the lights worked just fine. She changed into her pajamas and fell into bed, exhausted from the walk home, but mostly drained from the stress and fright along the way.

Abby laid there in the dark, willing herself to sleep, but she couldn't get that niggling feeling out of her mind that she was still being watched. She glanced over toward her window, where she saw the moon shining brightly now that the clouds had moved on. The only other thing visible through the window was the top of the oak tree from the yard and the leaves were rustling in the wind. She laid there watching the leaves and that's when she heard the noise.

It was barely noticeable at first, just a faint wisp of a sound and she held her breath to listen closer, trying to identify the source. Was it the furnace pushing air through the vents as the heat kicked on? No, it was too cold in the house for the heater to be on. Mom probably turned it off when she left the house this morning, to conserve energy. Was it the water running? No, it was more of a hiss, like air through a straw.

It was getting louder now and seemed close by. Abby lay still in the darkness, eyes wide, straining to see what might be causing the sound. It sounded like it was right there in the room with her, a little louder now, like breath wheezing in and out, slow and drawn out. It was coming from under her bed!

Frightened beyond belief, Abby slowly leaned over the side of the bed and lifted the bed skirt to peer underneath to see what was there. As her eyes adjusted to the under-bed darkness, she saw two red glowing orbs and a mouth of sharp pointy teeth glistening wet with slime. She started to scream and a long, bony arm snaked out and grabbed her and pulled her under the bed. The demon had followed her home from the cemetery after all, and Abby McMillan was no more!

Swimming in Walnuts!

Good grief! In all the years we've lived at this house, I don't remember us ever being this overwhelmed by walnuts! We have two big, black walnut trees in our back and side yards and there are record numbers of walnuts being dropped to the ground on a daily basis. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! all day and night! Every time the wind blows, Thunk! Thunk! Every time a squirrel scurries across a branch, Thunk! Every time a bird lands in the tree, Thunk! Will they ever stop falling?

Saturday, I started picking up nuts. Poor Sid nearly killed himself walking to the barn one morning when he stepped on a nut and it about rolled him off his feet, so he declared Saturday my picking-up-nuts-day! I got myself a five-gallon bucket from the barn and started gathering. When the bucket got full, I took it back to the barn and dumped the nuts in Tubby's swimming pool. Seemed like the best place for now. . . Seven buckets and 35 gallons of nuts later, Tubby's pool was heaping full and I hadn't even begun to make a dent in the piles and piles of nuts in our yard! Ugh! My back was aching and I couldn't have bent over one more time to pick up another nut, so I gave up for the day.

Now what in the world are we going to do with all these nuts? Apparently, husking walnuts is an especially dirty job that requires heavy duty rubber gloves and lots of patience. After I get all the outer husks off, then I'm supposed to plop the nuts in a bucket of water to clean off all the slimy goo. Then I'm supposed to rinse all the nuts and lay them to dry for a couple days on top of some screens in the backyard. Once they are dry, then it's time for cracking and shelling. Ugh again! I can already feel my fingers aching. Then after all THAT hard work, I'm sure Hubby will be thinking up all kinds of fabulous recipes for yummy treats that call for walnuts, so back to work I go again, baking in the kitchen. Sheesh!

Maybe I need to call a tree service and take care of those two pesky walnut trees now, before next years' crop starts to develop! A pretty pink dogwood and a magnificent weeping willow would look just beautiful in their place and they'd be a lot less work for my aching back!

Poetic Diddy by Humbert Wolfe. . .

"Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves.
We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves."

Decisions, Decisions. . .

Oh boy, oh boy! Who knew they made so many cute Halloween costumes for doggies? I just can't choose which one is more cute! It's going to be so fun dressing Tubby up this year and taking him downtown to parade him up and down Main Street. The stores along Main Street in our historic little town always stay open later on All Hallows' Eve so they can hand out candy to all the little goblins and ghouls. Hundreds of parents walk their kids up one side of the street, around the square and back up the other side, and then they continue on down into the residential area of West Main where all the big mansions are decorated to the hilt and Franklin's elite hand out gobs of candy. I've always wished I had a little toddler to dress up and show off, and now I do! I can't wait!

Tubby is the perfect size for finding costumes that fit. We not only have actual doggie costumes to choose from, but he also fits into costumes meant for a small child, so that makes it even more fun. I found the cutest little pumpkin t-shirt at Target that fits him perfectly and we found a matching dog collar with tiny pumpkins all over it. We also found him a knight-in-shining-armour helmet that fits him perfectly, although he's not too excited about having it on his head.

Most people who know Tubs would say he doesn't even need a costume, he's such a character as he is. Lord knows he has a face only a mother could love with those droopy eyes and slobbery jowls hanging down both sides of his face, and that one lone snaggletooth sticking up out of his mouth. He could probably get by without a costume, but then that spoils all the fun I'm having trying to choose one!

I found the cutest little black and white striped t-shirt that would make the cutest pirate outfit. I found a red scarf with skulls on it to tie around his neck, and a plastic pirate sword to hang on his side with an elastic band. Too bad I can't get him to keep the eye patch on! The black and white striped t-shirt could also double for the absolutely cutest makings of a bumblebee costume, but I can't convince my husband to let Tubs wear it. He says no dog of his is going to be a dang bumblebee for Halloween! Too bad because it wouldn't take much to color the white stripes yellow, fit him with some silver bumblebee wings on his back and I even found the cutest little headband with black antenna that bob side to side. Perfect! Who could resist such a cute bumblebee?

I would just LOVE to dress him up as a ballerina, but I know for sure my husband would have a serious come-apart about that! I wonder if I could get away with it though, if I paint the tu-tu camouflage and then fit him with a cute little camo t-shirt? How adorable would that be? Or I could go to the craft store and buy some fake fur and make him a lion's mane to hang around his neck. That could be cute!

Oh boy, am I ever excited! This is going to be so much fun! Stay tuned for my blog entry the day after Halloween, and a photo of what costume we settle on. . .

October Already?

It's that time of year again! Time to pull out all the Fall decorations to put around the porch and mailbox. Cornstalks, hay bales, punkins, mums, indian corn, a wreath for the front door and the scarecrow that gets more laughs than he does frightening away any of the crows!

The leaves are already starting to turn colors and fall from the trees and there's always a nice breeze blowing them across the road and yard. On my way home from work last night, I saw two adorable kids playing in a big pile of leaves their Dad had just raked together and I had to smile as I watched them fill their arms with leaves and throw them up in the air. So cute!

It's time to stock up on apples for pie baking, and the ingredients for a nice big pot of vegetable beef stew with cornbread. Time for hot spiced cider in the evenings! Time to pull out the boots and flannel shirts and to put an extra blanket on each of the beds.

It seems like just yesterday we were roasting in 90 degree temperatures and eating snow cones, and I know the cold Winter rain and snow will come way too soon. I wish Fall would last all year, but I know it won't, so I'll just enjoy it while it's here.

We're in the Money!

Well, what do you know! This morning, at my office, I received a fax from royalty! Well, former royalty, according to the letter, which was written by none other than the son of a former King of Liberia, a country in West Africa. Do they actually still have kings in Africa? Anyway, this poor son-of-a-former-king was writing me from a refugee camp in Tanzania because his poor father was currently being held against his will by the United Nations for alleged offenses of war crimes! Can you imagine the nerve? Apparently, the unfortunate man is currently facing court trial in the Netherlands, which apparently is where they have moved him awaiting trial.

This distraught son was writing me because his father, the former king, told him that I was a trustworthy individual whom his father spoke highly of in past conversations. Really? Me? I don't remember ever meeting a former king of Liberia, but then again my memory these days isn't what it used to be. As I read further, the letter continued on to say that this former king apparently stashed $177,000,000 in a banks' security vault under the name of a friend right here in the good old U.S. of A! Amazingly, however, that poor friend died in a most unfortunate motor accident and now the kings son is desperate for help in obtaining access to the millions of dollars hidden away in that bank vault!

I guess this is where I come in, because reading further, the son tells me that he has come up with an idea for us to get our hands on that money after all. He contacted the bank manager and found out that yes, the money is still safely there in the account and he needs my help in obtaining access to it and transferring it out of Tanzania. For my help, he's willing to give me 30%! Wow!! 30% of $177,000,000 is $53,100,000! Can you imagine? I'm going to be a multi-millionaire! That's better than winning the Mega Millions lottery! And I didn't even have to buy a ticket!!!

All I have to do is send this man my bank account information and fax him a signed release letter and the funds will be transferred immediately right into both of our accounts! Isn't that wonderful? I just can't believe how lucky I am to have been chosen for this unbelievable opportunity! In a matter of minutes, I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams! My husband and I can finally quit our jobs and travel the world! My prayers have been answered and we and all our loved ones will want for nothing for the rest of our lives! Oh boy! I better hurry up and get my information faxed back so I can start making my list of all the ways I'm going to spend my millions!

(You do know I'm being sarcastic, right? I'd never fall for one of these outlandish scams, although I do think it's funny that someone actually has the nerve to send such a letter out and quite the lack of sense to think that people might actually respond!)

Unexpected Company

This morning we woke to chilly temperatures, blue skies and sunshine. When I got to the office, my boss had both the front and back doors to the house open and we had a nice breeze blowing through and could hear all the birds singing in the trees.

I was just working away at my computer when all of a sudden I heard the biggest racket behind me. I knew my boss was in his office in back, so I thought maybe someone had come in the front door without me seeing them. I turned around in my chair and there was this poor little sparrow flying willy nilly all through the office.

It was fluttering from room to room, trying to find its way back outside. Through the kitchen, into the file room, back into my bosses office, across the foyer and into my office, up the stairs and back down again that poor little bird flew! It would land on the ceiling fan for a brief rest, then swoop back down as if it was going to land in my hair. I was ducking and shooing and flaying my arms to try and steer it back outside, but it just kept on flying around the office.

Finally, it exhausted itself out and landed on a big set of house plans and my boss scooped it up and let it out the back door. Poor little thing. Curiosity got the best of it and it just had to fly in and see what we were doing, I guess.

Here I would rather be enjoying the beautiful outdoors, and it apparently wanted to be indoors for a change. I imagine it had quite the story to tell once it finally regained its strength and flew back to its family. Too bad we couldn't have traded places for the day. Oh well, back to work. . .

Palm Trees in Tennessee?

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. . . My husband is a nut! Every day he comes up with a new way to make me laugh. He's got this new hair-brained idea to play a trick on the three neighbor ladies that walk up and down our road every morning.

Now that the pears are starting to ripen and fall into the yard, the ladies have started stopping to pick up as many as they can carry when they pass our house. The other morning we had the front door open as we puttered around the house getting ready for work, and when the ladies stopped in the yard, Tubby spotted them and busted out the screen door and down the steps to greet them. They all three stood frozen in their tracks with their mouths wide open when they saw him come flying out of the house. He jumped all over them, drooling hello in his own special way, until Sid rescued them from his slobbery assault.

When he came back in the house, he was hit with the idea for the trick he's going to play on the pear-thieving bunch. He's going to pick a week and one day he's going to toss some fat, bright red apples out in the lawn among the pears. Then the next day, he's going to put a few oranges out there. The final day, he's going to lay out a couple coconuts. His hope is that he'll be able to hide somewhere and video tape the ladies' reaction as they find these odd fallen fruits in our yard, and then the last day he'll hop out and laugh his infectious silly laugh as the jokester is revealed!

I guess I have to admit it is a good idea and it could be pretty funny to watch the expressions on their faces as they bend down to pick up an apple or an orange, and then as they look around for the tree it might have fallen from. Even better will be the day they find the coconuts with no palm trees in sight!

How does he ever think up these things? But how glad I am that he does! Never a dull moment at our house, that's for sure!

Anticipating Autumn

My favorite time of the year is just around the corner and I welcome it with open arms! I've had enough of the heat and humidity of Summer. I literally melt when I step outside and my hair goes limp as a wet dishrag, instantly undoing an hours' worth of curling and styling. There isn't a hairspray on the planet that holds up against southern humidity!

Now that the weather is changing into Fall, the sun doesn't blind us awake at such ungodly hours of the mornings, and it goes down an hour earlier at night. It's cool enough in the evenings to sleep with the windows open and the crickets, cicadas and tree frogs lull us to sleep with their constant songs.

In the mornings, it's cool and crisp and the dew coats the grass and sparkles on all the spider webs that stretch along the board fencing lining the pastures. They look like intricate works of lacy art, shining with diamonds. As much as I hate spiders, I have to admire their talent when I see how hard they've worked to weave these beautiful webs.

The pears and persimmons are already falling out of the trees and the deer are coming into the yard at night to munch on them. I imagine they make a tasty midnight snack. Pretty soon it will be time for pumpkins and scarecrows and weekend bonfires. The leaves will be turning soon and swirling through the air to carpet the ground with colors of red, orange and bright yellow. I can't wait!

Date Night

Hubby and I went to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in concert the other night in Nashville. We'd been to see him before years ago, and they put on a really good show. I'd forgotten how much fun a good concert could be! The instant the lights go down the crowd jumps to their feet and everyone is screaming and yelling and whooping and hollering as the band takes their places on stage. Then it's like a two hour frenzy of favorite songs, one right after the other, with the smell of pot in the air and thousands of voices singing the words to every song at the top of their lungs. Then before you know it, the band is taking their final bow and sadly it's all over and the crowd rushes out.

It was the most fun I've had in a long time and I don't think we sat down for more than a minute the whole time. We danced and sang and clapped and screamed along with everyone else around us, lighters held high in tribute in the air. All the way home I kept thinking how much fun it was and why don't we do this more often?

It made me think back to all the concerts we've been to over the years. I remember my very first concert (if you can call the Oregon State Fair a concert venue) was Andy Gibb. My Mom took my sister and I and we sat on some bleachers in front of an outdoor stage and watched Andy in those tight red leather pants wiggle his butt and shake that gorgeous head of long blonde hair, imagining he was singing those sappy love songs directly to us. We giggled and gasped and sighed with puppy love. I think I was about 12 years old or so at the time.

I guess Loverboy was my first official honest-to-goodness, full band on stage concert. It was held in Salem at The Armory and the whole place was filled to the rafters. They had colored smoke shooting up out of the stage and laser lights shooting all through the crowd and the music was so loud I thought my ears would ring forever.

All through high school it was one concert after another. Triumph, Ozzy, Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Sammy Hagar, Judas Priest, Def Leppard, Billy Squire, Scorpions, Tom Petty, John Cougar, etc. It's a wonder we weren't deaf by the time we reached our 20's. And where did we find the money for all those tickets?

Then later in life we mellowed out to Tim McGraw, Kenny Chesney, Alan Jackson and Brad Paisley, but the scene was filled with just as much camaraderie and excitement, whether it was country or rock-n-roll.

There's something awesome about standing in a crowd of 30,000 strangers all swaying together to the music and singing each song word-for-word as one. It sends a thrill through you. I can see why some bands stay around as long as they do to ride this adrenaline rushed wave of fame even into their 60's. And thank goodness they do, so fans like us can keep coming to the shows, remembering back to good times past and making new memories along the way!

Chocolate Covered Memories

Today I channeled my dearly departed Grandma Happy and baked a sheet cake with homemade chocolate frosting. For as long as I can remember, I don't think there ever was a time that you'd visit Grandma's house without a fresh baked cake waiting there for you with melt-in-your-mouth, lick-the-bowl-clean homemade frosting! She was the best for homemade desserts.

As I ran the mixer and frosted the cake, I thought of her and how much I miss having her around. There have been times I've thought, "Oh, I'll just call Grandma!" but then I remember she's not there for me to call anymore. It's been years now since she's been gone, but once in awhile you just forget she's not there in her shag-carpeted living room, sitting on that brightly colored velour couch waiting for the phone to ring.

I miss her tiny little southern voice, her words of wisdom, the sweet cards and handwritten letters, the handmade gifts she always gave for Christmas and birthdays, the not-so-subtle way she always inquired about my attendance in church on Sundays. I can still see her all dressed up in her finest outfit with those shiny silver or gold lame' jeweled shoes, with her matching necklace and earrings and her hair done up perfect and prettily in place.

Or better yet, with one of her hundreds of ornately hand-sewn aprons on, serving up a loving helping of that fresh baked cake! I miss you Grandma!

Kids will be Kids!

I really don't have anything to compare it to, since we weren't blessed with actual children of our own, but I've come to the conclusion that Tubby is the chubby little "toddler" that God has given us and the things we experience with him seem very similar to those that I can imagine parents with a small child or baby would be experiencing.

For instance, I find that we can't leave the house without a package of baby wipes in my purse, a small towel that acts as a "bib" for his drool, a chew toy, which doubles as his "pacifier" when he gets cranky or sleepy, and a whole slew of other items you just HAVE to have on hand to keep him happy. And if he's not going with us, just like a child, you have to find a source of "doggie" day-care!

The house is a blur of activity from sun-up to sun-down and you're constantly tripping on toys and cleaning up after him 24/7. He demands your complete attention 99% of the time and he crawls all over you like a monkey when you're trying to sit and relax.

Like I assume a child his age has similar eating habits, you can be assured you'll be cleaning up a big mess when he's finished with his meal. I find kibbles of dog food in the strangest places, including the insides of my shoes! And heaven forbid if you leave anything that even remotely resembles a play-toy laying within reach, because it's going to get absconded with and chances are you won't be finding it when you really need it. Then one day you're searching the couch cushions for the hundredth time and there it is, wedged down between the pillows.

There are times for parental pride, when we take him for walks in town and everybody ooooh's and aaaah's about him as we pass by. They pat him on the head, rub under his chin, squish his cheeky jowls together and talk baby-talk to him, just like I've done to human babies I've seen while standing in line at the grocery store.

And when he's tuckered out after a long day and ready for bed, that's when he's an angel, crawling up into your lap to get his tummy and ears rubbed. Pretty soon his eyes get all droopy and his breathing turns into a soft, steady snore and he's out like a light. This parenthood thing is pretty cool.

Sprinkler Silliness

Because it's been so dang hot and we haven't had much rain, we've been having to run the sprinkler in the yard every other night when we get home. Our water bill doubled last month but that's a small price to pay considering how much we spent on flowers this year! We have to do what we can to keep them alive and beautiful. It's amazing how a little water perks them up and makes the grass so green.

We have one of those old fashioned sprinklers that has several different settings and the water fans out back and forth across the lawn. Ours seems like it's on its last leg because I set it a certain way and it has a mind of its own and does something totally opposite. It takes forever for me to get it just right and even then, sometimes I look out the window and see that it's changed on its own again.

Last night as I was setting it, it sprung a leak on one end and squirted me right in the face. I tried to tighten the nozzle to stop the leak, but that just made it worse and it squirted me in the face and head again. I gave up on that, then set it on a half-way setting and laid it on the grass, then made the mistake of turning my back on it to pull a few weeds in the opposite flowerbeds. Sure enough, that pesky sprinkler changed its setting to side-to-side and got my whole backside wet with ice cold water! I sucked in air and jumped up and turned around just when it was making another swipe and perfectly timed for it to get my whole front wet as well.

By this time, I was dripping wet with mascara blackening both eyes and my hair hanging in streaming cords down my face, so I figured what the heck! This cold water actually feels pretty good on this stifling hot day! So, I kicked off my sandals and reverted back to my childhood days and jumped over the sprinkler with a high-pitched squeal! I'd forgotten how much fun this could be! It made me think of days gone by when my Sister and I donned our bathing suits and ran back and forth through the sprinkler for hours on end. Our suit bottoms were droopy wet and our feet looked like grass-covered prunes, but our smiles were wide and our giggles and laughter filled the air!

Happy Birthday Baby Chloe'

I can't believe it was a year ago yesterday that I got the surprise of my life when I walked out the back door and found a newborn donkey in our pasture! We didn't even know our sweet Clementine was pregnant! It was such a miraculous morning!

I'll never forget the absolute shock I experienced when I first saw her standing there on the hill next to her Mama! I was going out to feed that weekend morning and I only saw old Cooter (the Daddy) standing at the fence waiting for his breakfast. Usually, Clemmie would be standing right alongside him, but this time she was nowhere to be seen.

I banged the bucket on the fence and called out to her, but I couldn't see or hear her anywhere. I walked around to the other side of the barn and looked up the hill and there she stood under a tree and at first glance, I thought I saw our dog Jake standing right next to her. I knew instantly that didn't make sense because for one, Clemmie would NEVER let Jake get that close to her, and two, Jake was sitting right next to me in the grass! I looked again and when I saw Clemmie bend her head down to lick the tiny creature, I finally realized it was a baby donkey!

I instantly started squealing and ran excitedly into the house screaming for Sid. I could barely talk and I had already started hyperventilating! I'm sure I was jumping up and down, and I just kept yelling over and over "Clemmie had a baby! Clemmie had a baby!" I was just so shocked beyond belief!

I grabbed the phone and ran back outside and started calling everyone I could think of to tell them I was a Grandma! I called our closest neighbors, my Mom, my sister, my bosses. We even called the family that we got Cooter from when he was a baby and told them they were grandparents too! Everyone came to see our new addition on the Hollow!

Baby Chloe' was an instant celebrity! My husband was the first one to pet her and hold her in his arms. She was the tiniest thing and so precious. It was amazing that something so tiny and newly born was able to stand up and walk around on those wobbly little legs. I was so enamored with her and I never wanted to leave her side! I hugged her and squeezed her and pet her all over. She was so adorable and sweet.

A year later and she's still cute as a button. She's bigger now, and fuzzier and has all her teeth, and she hee haws louder than her Daddy does, but she'll always be our sweet baby girl!

Fun at The Farmer's Market

On Saturdays in Franklin, we have the best ever farmer's market. It's held from 8 to 1 every Saturday, year 'round and it's so popular you can hardly find a parking spot. People come with huge baskets or large tote bags on their arms to walk from booth to booth filling them up with every goodie imaginable. All the products are grown or made locally and people bring their pets along and everyone is so friendly and full of information.

We took Tubby with us once and barely got a chance to look around with all the attention he was getting. Everyone wanted to stop and take his picture and pet him. Today, my favorite friend and neighbor went with me and when we're together, we talk a mile a minute nonstop, so Tubby stayed home so I could devote all my attention to my visiting and giggling.

This mornings' market was a good one! From the minute you enter the grounds, you're bombarded with scrumptious scents, colorful sights, smiling faces and toe-tapping music. They have a bluegrass band that plays in one corner and you can sit and have your coffee and a fresh-baked scone or muffin and listen to the fiddle and banjo players pick out their tunes.

We saw fresh-baked breads, cakes, cookies, pies and muffins, buckets of fresh-picked flowers sold by the bunch, goat cheese, homemade soaps and honey. There were baskets full of plump, juicy blueberries and blackberries, tomatoes, squash, onions, cucumbers, lettuces, herbs, cabbage, greens, juicy peaches, apples and plums. There was handmade jewelry and artwork by local artists, handcrafted furniture and home decor, bird houses and yard ornaments. So much to see and be inspired by!

I bought some homemade whole wheat pasta from a little Amish family that travels to the market from nearby Summertown, and then some arugula and goat cheese from someone else. I bought a loaf of fresh-baked foccasia bread infused with fresh tomato and basil and had the beginning of the yummy dinner I had planned for tonight.

After the market, my friend invited me up to her garden to complete my list of dinner ingredients. She gathered tomatoes and basil and peppers from her bountiful garden. She even picked me a bunch of brightly colored zinnias to put in a vase. I thought WE had a lot of butterflies in OUR yard! You should have seen how many millions of them that graced her garden! She had butterfly bushes planted along a fence that were as tall as a house and were just covered with the hugest yellow, blue, gold and brown butterflies. I never saw so many in one place! It was magical.

Dinner turned out wonderful, if I do say so myself. When I got home, I chopped up some fresh garlic and chicken breast and sauteed it in olive oil. Then I chopped up some tomatoes and peppers and walnuts and added that to the mix. I boiled the whole wheat pasta and when it was tender, drained it and buttered it and added it to the chicken and veggies. I added Parmesan cheese and chopped up the arugula and put it in last, with a little salt and pepper. I sliced up some of the yummy foccasia bread and warmed it in the oven, then chopped up some basil and crumbled the feta cheese to put on top. It was scrumptious!

Saturday mornings like today are so special and fun! Good food, endless conversation and laughter and the best of friends to share it all with! I can't wait until our next trip to town!

Fabulous Flutterby's

We have been absolutely inundated with the most beautiful butterflies this year in our yard! It must be God's way of thanking us for all the hard work on our yard, to bless us with these gorgeous bright colored creatures that float through the air from flower to flower. Every morning when I walk out the front door, I'm amazed at how many of them there are! Little ones, big ones, orange, brown, and bright blue. The bright blue ones seem to be the most plentiful so I had to look them up online to see what they were called. They're called Pipevine Swallowtails and from the numbers of them fluttering around our yard, there must have been an awful big nest of them in one of our nearby trees. They seem to love all the flowers we've got for them to feast on, and they make such a pretty picture as they light from one to the next. Red geraniums, blue salvia, orange marigolds, pink verbena, yellow daisies, purple petunias and rust colored lantana. Between the flowers and the beautiful butterflies, our yard is a rainbow of beauty!

Haunted House For Rent

Last night I drove past our old house where we lived when we first moved here to Tennessee and I noticed a sign on the fence saying the place was for rent. I couldn't help but wonder why the tenants had moved out as they were the longest lasting tenants since we moved out so many years ago.

After we moved out on Halloween night of 1996, it seems like that "for rent" sign was hanging on the fence every few months. I'm sure the poor landlord wondered why he never could seem to keep a tenant for more than six months at a time. When we lived there, we lasted all of four months, and I can tell you we were lucky to have survived that long! Why, you ask? Because the place was HAUNTED, that's why!

Yes, I said haunted! A real honest-to-goodness ghost or spirit or lost soul, whatever you care to call it, lived there in that house with us for four long months, and if that constant "for rent" sign is any indication, it still lives there today.

When we moved to Tennessee, we didn't bring much with us because we really weren't 100% sure we planned to stay. It was the first time either of us had ever lived anywhere other than our home state of Oregon, 2200+ miles away, and moving to Tennessee was one of the biggest steps either of us had ever taken in our lives. We left all our furniture and belongings in storage, just in case we didn't like it here and wanted to move back home. So, when we moved into the house near the corner of Parker Branch Road, we didn't have much to bring with us besides some clothes, a daybed, a few dishes we'd bought at a yard sale and a cooler.

We eventually bought a few more items at weekend yard sales, like an ironing board and iron, a pair of rocking chairs for the front porch, and an old antenna tv that only got two clear channels. We put the daybed in the living room, in front of the fireplace, and used it as a couch during the day and a bed at night. We set the tv on top of the cooler and set up the ironing board in one of the back bedrooms. Sounds luxurious, doesn't it?

The first few weeks living in our new little home were pretty uneventful as we settled into our new life. We both had new jobs that kept us out of the house during the days, and at night we didn't have much to occupy ourselves, with only two tv channels to choose from and no new friends made as of yet. My husband's hours fluctuated so I was home alone more often than not.

The first sign that we weren't living in that house alone came one late afternoon while we sat in the living room watching the news. One of the rockers on the front porch started rocking wildly back and forth, so that you could hear the deck floorboards creaking. I could see the rocker through the front window. My first thought was that a dog must have made its way up onto the porch and he was the one making it move. I walked to the front door, opened it and looked out the storm door and the rocker stopped. I glanced around and didn't see anyone, or anything. I looked out toward the nearest tree and no branches were blowing in the wind. Puzzled, I shut the door and went back to sit on the daybed. A few minutes later, the rocker started back up again. I opened the front door, and the rocker stopped. (insert Twilight Zone theme song here)

The next wierd thing that happened occurred in the middle of the night. We were sleeping in the living room. Because the daybed was only big enough for one person to sleep comfortably, we took turns. One of us would sleep on the daybed and the other would sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was my night to be sleeping on the floor and I remember being sound asleep and waking to the sound of water being turned on in the kitchen. I could hear it tinkling in the sink basin, and then I heard the refrigerator door open and close. Then I sensed someone standing over me in the dark, so assuming it was my husband who I thought had gotten up for a drink of water, I rolled over onto my stomach and propped myself up onto my elbows and looked up to what I figured would be my husband standing over me to hand me a glass so I could have a drink too. There was no one there, only empty darkness. I looked to my left and there on the daybed lay my husband fast asleep.

Eventually, we scored an antique iron bed at an estate sale and were able to sleep on a real bed in one of the back bedrooms. One night my husband went to bed early because he had to get up earlier than usual for work the next day. I stayed up watching tv in the living room. After a bit, I could hear my husband in the other room, yelling out in his sleep. He was saying, "Knock it off! Quit it!" I figured he was having a nightmare, so I went in the room to shake him awake, but when I got in there, he was already awake and looking at me with a grumpy look on his face. I asked him what all the yelling was about and he said, "You need to stop pulling on my toe! I'm trying to sleep!" I told him I wasn't pulling on his stupid toe, I was watching tv in the other room! Sheesh! Needless to say, he didn't believe me. He had distinctly been awakened by someone (or something) repeatedly tugging on his big toe!

Another night, we were both sound asleep in the back bedroom and about 3:00 in the morning we were awakened by pounding on the wall behind our bed. It sounded just like someone was hanging pictures on the wall with a hammer and nail. Bang! Bang! Bang! on and on and on. Every so often the pounding would stop and then you'd hear what sounded like a parrot squawking and then the pounding would start up again. My husband had to be at work at 5:00 a.m. and we were both not only bewildered but angry and exhausted! He pounded on the wall with his fist and the hammering stopped.

The absolute scariest occurrence happened one dark night, again in the back bedroom where we were sleeping. I can't say what it was exactly that first woke me up. A sound maybe. All I know is I was wide awake and laying there in the pitch dark petrified with that awful tingly feeling all over my body and I knew without a shadow of a doubt there was someone in that room with us. I was so scared stiff that I couldn't move an inch. My husband was laying there asleep, right next to me, but I was so frozen with fear that I couldn't even turn my head to whisper him awake. I was straining my eyes and ears in the dark, trying to see or hear wherever he/she/it was, and my heart was pounding wildly out of my chest. All of a sudden I felt the intruder sit down next to me on my side of the bed. I actually felt the mattress sink down with his/her/its weight and felt it lean in toward me, heavy against my hip. I felt it moving closer and closer until I could feel it positioned right over me, his face over my face, as if it was almost nose to nose. I can't explain the terror I felt and I could feel the thickness in the air between us. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut tight and just kept praying over and over again, "Please make it go away! Please make it go away!" After what seemed like forever, I felt it lean back and ease itself off the bed and then it got real cold in the room and I didn't feel it in the room anymore and knew it was gone. As soon as I felt I could finally move, I rolled over and shook my husband awake and hysterically told him everything I'd experienced. After that night, I never wanted to be alone in that house and I avoided it at all cost. It never felt like a real home and it never would!

Thankfully, we moved out soon after. I came across a book about the history of the area at work one day and as I flipped through, I found a chapter on what once was considered the community of Bingham, situated right there near the corner of Parker Branch and Old Hillsboro Roads. The author described the area as far back as the late 1800's and told about a pair of brothers who were charged as horse thieves and one of them was beheaded and his head was impaled on a fence post as a warning to other potential horse thieves. There was also a crudely drawn map on one page that showed a cemetery once sat strangely close to the very spot our old house now sits. Could our ghost have been that headless horse thief, or someone from the long forgotten cemetery, angry because a house was built on top of the graves?

Whoever or whatever it was, it put us through enough to convince us it was real and to scare the living daylights out of me, that's for sure! Do I believe in ghosts? You bet I do!

Thunder & Lightning, Very Very Frightning!

We had the most awesome storm last night! It was one of those exciting storms like you usually only see in the movies with lots of lightning and booming thunder and tons of rain and high winds. It started early in the evening and rocked us to sleep well into the night and I loved it!

Earlier in the evening, I went out on the porch and watched it roll in. You could see the lightning streak across the sky over the hills in the distance and the leaves on the trees were rustling in the wind. Big, black, ominous clouds darkened the sky and you could hear the rain coming from far off, before it ever arrived. When the rain finally did reach us, it poured so hard and the wind blew it in huge sheets across the yard.

As it got darker, the lightning display was even more intense and at times there were so many strikes at one time that it lit up the whole area as if it was daylight again. The thunder just rumbled and rolled down the hills on and on and shook the ground and rattled the window panes. It made me think of how much I always enjoyed the storms in the Pacific Northwest, although we never seemed to have lightning and thunder as intense as this.

I remember we used to race to the beach after a good storm (sometimes right before, or even during!) so we could see the waves crashing in and then walk the shoreline when it was over, looking for treasures the storm had washed in. I always think of my Daddy when it storms like this, as he shares my love for a good hair-raising storm. I often sit out here on this porch swing and think how much he'd enjoy watching these storms and wishing he was here to experience it with me.

Yardwork Blues

This year our yard has just about done us in. Next time we buy a house, it's going to have a teeny, tiny postage-stamp size yard that won't require so much maintenance! It didn't help that our Spring was so unusually wet this year. It rained and poured like a monsoon practically every weekend and we barely had a chance to plant a few flats of flowers before BOOM! June arrived and it was so stifling hot and miserable that we couldn't seem to get motivated to venture out to do the rest.

By the end of June we couldn't put it off any longer. The weeds and shaggy flowerbeds just couldn't be ignored. So despite the 95 degree temperatures and unrelenting humidity, for two days we worked diligently clearing out the old mulch, weeding and edging the beds and walkway and emptying all the pots to make room for more flowers.

It took three trips into town to buy 55 bags of pine nugget bark, 30 bags of lava rock for the walkway, 15 bags of river rock and several flats of flowers. We huffed and puffed and heaved and ho'd until our muscles couldn't possibly take any more punishment and we were on the verge of heat stroke. I had a run-in with a mama lizard who had laid seven eggs in one of my pots. I stuck my hands down into the dirt and her head popped up and she scrambled up my arm and scared the peewiddly waddles out of me! I screamed and flung her across the lawn. Who knew I could run so fast at the end of a hard day!

Now the yard looks beautiful and our water bill is going to spike again trying to keep it that way. Oh the joys of curb appeal!

Too Much Boob Tube

After last night's wacky dream, I think it's quite obvious I watch entirely too much tv! I dreamed I was a contestant on Dancing With the Stars and my dance partner was FBI Profiler Hodge, from Criminal Minds. You know, the guy that played Dharma's husband on Dharma and Greg? Well, as I was gliding along the dance floor, low and behold, here comes that mean-spirited vixen Danielle Staub from Real Housewives of New Jersey! Apparently she was a contestant too, and she was trying to edge me out of the competition! I can't remember if I won or not, but the next part of my dream, I was being whisked off in a limo to a hotel at the beach and the clerk at the front desk of the hotel was none other than Alan from Two and a Half Men! He checked me in, gave me my key and then the Bellhop, who happened to be Russell from Rules of Engagement, played by David Spade, showed me to the most beautiful room with an ocean view. I remember being out on the balcony watching the surf roll in when I glanced to the adjoining balcony and saw that slimy sleezeball Scott Disick, Kourtney Kardashian's baby-Daddy from Keeping up with the Kardashians. Only Scotty-boy wasn't with Kourtney, but with some bleach-blonde, anorexic bimbo I'd never seen before, and they were in a hot and heavy liplock, oblivious to anyone else around them. Oh boy, Kourtney is going to kill him when she finds this out!

Childhood Memories, Part Two

When my sister and I were little girls, our parents used to take us to the neatest places. I remember one of our absolute favorite places to go was an amusement park at the coast called Pixieland. It was at the entrance to Lincoln City as you came down over the hill on your way to the beach and we always begged and pleaded to go there for lunch and to play. I can still imagine the aroma of fried chicken and fresh baked scones that wafted on the air from the parking lot! The Pixie Kitchen was the restaurant at the entrance to the park and when you walked in the door there was a row of exaggerated circus mirrors along the hallway that made you look super tall and skinny, super short and fat, or all wobbly and crooked when you looked into them. If you got a seat by the window in the restaurant, you could watch the Pixie Train go by as it rambled along the tracks around the park. I always got a kick out of the name of the train, which was "Little Toot" because that's what my parents used to always jokingly call us. My favorite ride at the park was the Log Flume ride where we climbed to the top of a big ramp in a log-shaped cart and then barrelled down the slide splashing through the water. There was a ferris wheel, a big tree house to explore in, a children's zoo and a frontier village. There was a big hat-shaped building where they sold the fresh baked scones and there was a cheese barn where you could sample freshly made cheeses. There was an opera house where you could see live shows and a candy kitchen where you could buy every kind of candy imagineable! My favorite was always the box of rice candy where you didn't even have to unwrap it because the wrapper was made of rice paper and it would melt in your mouth. I always thought it was magic. The park was long gone, even before we grew up, but every time we passed the spot on the way to the beach, we thought about all our fun times there.

Another neat place near the coast that our Daddy used to take us was called Deer Park. It was a wildlife park of sorts, where they had all kinds of domestic and exotic animals and a huge petting zoo where you could feed the animals pellets you bought out of dispensers set up around the park. Our favorites were the deer and llamas and goats. I remember the llamas were sometimes mean and if you teased them, they'd spit at you. Our Daddy used to stand as close to the fence as he could and make faces, taunting them. I remember one llama hauled off and hocked the biggest loogey you ever saw and it landed right on the front of Daddy's shirt. We laughed and laughed. Another time, I remember we were feeding the goats and there were so many of them that they just surrounded you, trying to get at your hands full of feed. Daddy was feeding a bunch of goats and a big Billy goat came up behind him and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and started eating his money! That was hilarious, although Daddy didn't seem to think so at the time.

There was this place closer to home called Enchanted Forest that we used to beg to go too. It also had rides, a train and a western village to walk through, kinda like Pixieland. I remember there was a village based on storybook characters where you could walk into the Old Woman's Shoe and slide down a big slide, and the Crooked Man's House where the floors were all slanted and the windows were caddywampus and you couldn't stand upright. There was a big house shaped like a witch's head where you walked into her toothless mouth and stared up at her big, pointy, wart-covered nose. The park was always real dark and eerie to me, almost like it was haunted, because it was nestled inside a huge pine forest, thick with trees. I'm pretty sure it's still there, but it's been years and years since we last visited.

Mom used to take us to the neatest nearby parks and we'd play for hours. She'd pack a picnic lunch and we'd make a day out of it. Once, when I was really young, and before my sister had come along, we had a picnic in Marion Square Park, which was situated right at the foot of the Marion Street bridge downtown. As kids growing up, we never knew the park by it's real name. It was always Bum Park, or Hobo Park to us then, because of all the homeless men that slept there on the benches throughout the park. Tacky, I know, but that's what we called it. One weekend my parents and I were having a picnic at this particular park and my Daddy invited a homeless man to our table to have a plate of fried chicken and baked beans. He sat right alongside me and scraped his plate clean! I think it's a skateboard park now, and I'm not sure if the homeless still sleep on the benches or not, as I haven't been by there in ages.

Another neat treat was when Mom would take us to feed the ducks on Mill Creek. There was this cute little drive-in called Duck Inn where you could get corndogs and burgers, ice cream cones and the best krinkle-cut fries ever. There was a big yellow duck on the sign and it bobbed up and down like the duck was dipping his beak in the water. The creek ran along the back of the restaurant and you could sit on picnic tables on the creekbank and feed the ducks. Mom always stopped at the bread store and bought day-old loaves of bread and we'd toss it to the ducks, who gobbled it up and quacked for more.

I'd love to be a kid again and be able to do all these favorite things over and over. We had so much fun growing up and I'm so thankful for all the memories our parents gave us along the way.

Life is a cartoon

A friend of mine told me the other day that she thought I had a very "animated" outlook on life. Of course I was playing in the yard with Tubby at the time, talking baby-talk to him as if he could understand what I was saying. Later, as I thought about what she had said, I realized she was right. I do tend to view life as a cartoon, for the most part. I see everything in a comical Looney Tunes way and I emphasize everything I do, say, view and experience in a silly manner. It's just my way of never growing up and not taking things too seriously, I guess.

When I drive to work and see all the animals and wildlife, I find myself giving them all silly names and relating them to characters on cartoons I watched, or children's books I cherished as a kid. For instance, when I see the chickens running willy nilly away from a dog on the side of the road, I picture them as chubby southern Mammies with gingham dresses on and red kerchiefs on their heads, holding up their skirts so you can see their pantalooned legs as they waddle off across the lawn to hurry out of harms way. You can almost hear them saying, "Lord have mercy Henny Penny, that was a close call!"

By naming the cows and llamas and horses, even the fox, bunnies and turtles along the way, I'm not only giving them names, but personalities too! That way every time I see them, they are more dear to me, and they continually act out their parts in my ongoing daily adventures. I look forward to seeing the calves jumping and kicking as they try to coax their lazy mama's into playing with them. I love watching the herons wade out in the pond on their mile-high legs, to catch fish. I enjoy seeing the turkeys in the Spring when the toms fan out their tails and puff up their chests, strutting around to impress the hens, who act like they could care less about the lovesick fools.

There's only one downfall in my playful attachment to all these creatures, however, and that's when something bad happens to them and they are no longer a part of my days. My tender heart can't bear seeing a dead bird on the road that won't ever sing it's beautiful song again, or a smushed bunny that surely has a family waiting for it somewhere close by, wondering when he's going to come home for dinner. I think of them all as my very own, and I want the cartoons to go on happily forever and ever!

Moped Mishap

One day last week, I was driving down our road on my way to work when I passed two ladies that I usually see walking with one of my neighbors every morning. I've seen them almost every morning for the past several months and we always wave at each other in passing.

This particular morning, the two ladies were sitting at the bottom of my neighbor's driveway on a shiny new moped. They waved as I passed by and as I continued down the road, I watched in my rearview mirror as they manuevered their way shakily onto the road and then wobbily drove themselves right into the nearest ditch. I stopped and watched to be sure both of them got up safely and didn't appear to be hurt.

As I drove on to work, the moped incident got me to thinking about my own comical near-death experience on a moped more than 25 years past. I was still in high school at the time, and one weekend a girlfriend of mine and I were out in the country visiting my now-husband, who's Dad had just purchased a brand new bright and shiny red moped.

While I can't remember doing so, I must have begged and pleaded for a driving lesson and knowing how my husband has always had a weakness to grant my every wish (well, maybe not EVERY wish, but most of them anyway), I'm sure he complied. I remember the brake and the gas levers were situated on the handlebars and as long as you gave it sufficient gas it was pretty easy to balance and stay upright. I practiced in the gravel drive until I felt confident enough to venture out onto a real road.

My friend bravely hopped on back and off we went, driving the winding back roads. Keep in mind, I didn't even have a license to drive a car, I had only had maybe a 15 minute driving lesson, and neither of us were wearing helmets. Not to mention I've always been the klutsiest accident-prone person on the face of the earth. Pretty smart, huh?

Back and forth along the roads we zipped and zoomed. The more trips we took, the braver I got and the faster I'd dare to go. We were so cool with the wind blowing our hair while speeding around on this zippy little machine. As we came around a sharp curve, I realized I was going just a little too fast and went to pull back on the brake to slow us down a bit. Somehow I pulled on the gas instead of the brake however, and inevitably down we went, sliding for what seemed like forever across pavement and ending up in a field.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. I remember rolling and rolling and rolling and I went from seeing asphalt to sky, back to asphalt, to sky again, to dirt and tall grass, to sky, to mud and then to sky again and ultimately stopped right in the middle of a big mud hole at the side of the road. I laid there wondering if I was still alive, or if anything might be broken and I listened for any sign of my girlfriend and where she might have ended up. Luckily I heard her rustling in the grass not too far from me and I rolled over to see her covered in mud, but thankfully all in one piece.

We both started laughing hysterically, probably in shock and relieved to be alive. Amazingly neither of us had any broken bones and barely a scratch, but you sure couldn't say the same for the shiny new moped that laid several yards away. We limped back to the moped to survey the damage. One of the handlebars was bent, a mirror was broken off one side and there were several scratches and dents. Luckily it started back up though, so we both reluctantly climbed back on and slowly drove back to face the music.

I'm sure my husband's stomach dropped down into his shoes when he saw us both drive into the yard covered in mud, but that didn't begin to compare to the reaction of seeing that brand new moped practically ruined. His Dad was going to kill us all!

Later that evening, after I'd cleaned myself up and my husband had done his best to clean up the damaged moped, his Dad came home. I figured since I was the one at fault, I'd be the one to break the news of the wreck, and then maybe my husband wouldn't get in too much trouble. As soon as he got in the house, I meekly approached him, shaking in my shoes. I remember bursting into tears as I informed him I had wrecked his new toy. I think we all held our breath as we waited to see what he'd do or say. He glanced over to my husband and then back to me and started laughing. This was so unexpected that we all started laughing.

Then he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and as he walked past my husband, he said to him "I don't know what you're laughing about. You're going to pay the repair bill!" Darn, I knew it wouldn't be that easy. . .

Childhood Memories, Part One

I love hearing stories from my parents and relatives about my childhood. Some of the stories I've heard so often I'm almost convinced I remember them myself.

My Daddy always told me when I was first born I was so tiny that he just balanced me on the inside of his forearm, lengthwise, and carried me around like that with my head resting in the palm of his hand.

My Mom said the day I was born and the nurse brought me to her, she thought they'd brought her the wrong baby. She said I had a chubby round face and the thickest coal black hair and I looked just like an eskimo baby. The black hair soon turned to tow-head blonde and that's what I had all throughout my childhood, but I've always retained the chubby round face.

My Mom said I started to walk and talk at an earlier than usual age and talk-talk-talk is all I ever did. I talked so much that when my baby sister came along, my Mom was scared she'd never learn to talk herself because I did all her talking for her.

Apparently, I never knew a stranger and I'd talk anyone's leg off if they'd put up with me. Mom said she was mortified the first time I caught a glimpse of a black man in person. We were at the airport and a porter was helping people with their luggage and Mom said I walked right up to him and tugged on his coat and said, "Mister, do you live on Sesame Street?" That was the only place I'd ever seen a black person before. Mom said the porter chuckled and reached down to shake my hand and said, "No, little lady, I don't live on Sesame Street." She was mortally embarrassed as she dragged me off.

Supposedly I was a fearless toddler as well. One time when I was about two, we went to Oklahoma to visit my grandparents and I was playing in the backyard. Mom said I came running into the house jabbering something about a "cute squirrel" and tugging on Grandma's skirt to come see it. They both followed me outside to the flowerbed where I'd been digging and I showed them the fuzzy squirrel, which wasn't a squirrel at all but a big, hairy tarantula! Mom and Grandma shrieked and screamed and dragged me back into the house. Lord knows I've grown out of that fearless stage by leaps and bounds. Anyone that knows me now, knows I'm scared to death of my own shadow and if I ever saw a tarantula within 30 feet of me, I'd faint dead away!

Oh to be a kid again with all the childhood innocence and wide-eyed curiosity about life!

Bountiful Harvest

It's that time of year again, when my mailbox is constantly full of zucchini and tomatoes from generous neighbors, and plastic bags full of yellow squash, beans and okra magically appear at our doorstep on an almost daily basis. It seems like all of us along this country road tend to plant more than we can possibly eat ourselves, so we all share with each other throughout the Summer. This year I didn't even bother planting certain things because I knew from past experience, I would have an oversupply of those items from my closest neighbors, and I was right. I don't even have to buy vegetables from the store, and it's nice. My hubby and I plant peppers, tomatoes and some herbs. Our big thing is making salsa, and tons of it, every Summer. The peppers produce all the way up till it frosts and some days we'll sit out there and pick them for hours. When my hubby makes the salsa, I have to ask him to make me a milder batch because my tongue can't withstand the blisters from the hot stuff he makes for himself. I can barely stand to be inside the house when he's making it, it's so strong. My eyes water and I practically collapse from the coughing and sneezing. He grows this one type of pepper that is so hot it could be a weapon of mass destruction with the armed forces! His Grandpa from Texas sent us the seeds from plants he grows in the desert near Mexico, and they light your mouth on fire.

All throughout the season we have an overabundance of other things too, like apples, plums, peaches and berries. I have one particular favorite friend and neighbor up the hill who I call the Martha Stewart of Leiper's Fork. She grows anything and everything and always shares. I picked blueberries at her house one Summer and came home with two huge gallon buckets full. Those were glorious! There's nothing like plump, fresh blueberries in your pancakes or on your oatmeal in the mornings. This same friend grows the most wonderful herbs and brings them to me by the sack full. Fresh basil, oregano and rosemary that smell so good you wish you could bottle the fragrance. She gave me her recipe for homemade pesto for the basil, and her fresh baked bread recipe is heavenly with some of the rosemary added. It's to die for! She's getting chickens soon, so fresh eggs will be right around the corner and she and her husband just recently started beekeeping, so fresh honey and beeswax candles won't be far behind. She has rows and rows of lavendar lining her walkways and she has fresh mint that grows along the side of her house. She's constantly giving us fresh baked items and dishes she makes with things she grows, like yummy cherry pie and jellies.

And in the Fall, we give anyone and everyone pears from the trees in our front yard. We have so many pears every year we could never use them all, and various neighbors come and help themselves. We've been known to cart wheelbarrows full of pears to the pasture for the donkeys. They love them. It's pear cobbler and pear preserves for us.

I need to go online and pull up some new recipes for zucchini, since my next door neighbor brought us an armload last night and I'm running out of ideas for cooking them. I've made casseroles, sauteed them with onions and peppers, fried them up in patties, made bread with them and even cooked some with shredded chicken and salsa for tacos. If it's true what they say that "you are what you eat" then I'll be a giant green zucchini before the Summer is through!

And now there are 10. . .

I walked out the back door the other evening and was shocked to see my adopted chicken walking through the backyard followed by nine fluffy yellow chicks! She had been missing for quite awhile and I was beginning to worry that Mr. Fox might have gobbled her up. Apparently though, she's been on maternity leave, hatching her new brood! I was so excited!

I hurried over to her, hoping I could catch a chick and get some good pictures. She went under the fence and of course all her babies followed, and then here came old Curious Cooter to see what all the ruckus was about and the feathers started flying!

The Mama Chicken went berserk when she saw that big clumsy donkey coming toward her chicks, so she started jumping all around, squawking and holding one of her wings out like she was hurt, trying to distract the donkey. When that didn't work, she would fly up to his head and neck to try and peck him away. Cooter pinned back his ears and threw her off and she came screeching back to him again and again until he cleared away from her babies.

In the meantime, the chicks were scattering willy nilly all through the barnyard, probably wondering what in the world had gotten into their crazy Mama. One of the chicks came right under the fence and into my hand, cheep-cheeping so sweetly. I held it for a minute, telling it how cute it was and petting it's soft feathers, and pretty soon the Mama and all the other chicks crawled under the fence and out to safety, so I put the chick down and she ran to join the others.

The Mama circled around her babies, gathering them up and clucking to them reassuringly, probably counting them to make sure they were all there. Then they all wandered off down the fence row, clucking and cheeping to each other about their near miss with the big bad donkey and the silly woman with the long brown hair.

Made With Love

When I got home from work tonight, I found a care package from Oregon waiting on the front porch. Apparently my mother-in-law is missing her baby son and decided she needed to send him some love in the form of homemade flour tortillas and a block of Tillamook cheese. Yum!

The taste of homemade tortillas warmed and folded over with melted cheese inside brings back good memories. No matter how hard I try, my homemade tortillas never turn out as good as hers. I remember well my first lesson in making them back when I was a teenager in high school. I was in the kitchen with Sid's Mom and two sisters, trying to make a good impression and it was my job to mix the dough, which you always do by hand, never with a mixer. There I was with both hands down in the bowl and sticky dough up to my elbows, doing my best to mix the ingredients to the perfect consistency.

I looked down into the bowl and was mortified to see little red things dotted all throughout the white dough. My sister-in-law looked over my shoulder and burst into obnoxious snorting laughter while my face turned redder than the specks in the bowl! Turns out I was doing such a good job of mixing the dough that all my fake fingernails were popping off one by one into the mix! How embarrassing! We had to pick them all out to salvage the batch.

As the lesson continued, I soon realized I was a hopeless case when it came to making homemade tortillas. Rolling them out was a total joke. Tortillas are meant to be round, not shaped like the state of Florida or Idaho, all lopsided and jagged. I was never going to master this task. Even now, more than 25 years later, my tortillas aren't perfectly shaped, but at least they're edible, thank you very much! And I can whip a batch up in record time too!

But don't worry Mama, yours are much preferred over mine, so thank you for the care package and for the memories!

Noah! Where are you when we need you?

We had record breaking rainfall this past weekend and the flooding was amazingly devastating! Our area had 16 inches of rain in just two days and some of the rivers in the area crested at all-time record high levels. We were seriously considering putting an ad on craigslist for a boat big enough for two of everything, that's how bad it was! All the local news channels were on constant report-mode all weekend long, showing us pictures of area flooding and giving us alerts as to when to expect the next onslaught of rain, thunder, high winds and hail. It was a nerve-wracking weekend for sure. Poor Tubby just paced back and forth all weekend and we all went a little stir crazy with cabin fever from not being able to venture outside.

Saturday, there was no way out of Leiper's Fork in any direction, so we were completely stuck at home. We drove down our road taking video of the rushing waters and all the damaged fencing. The bridge at the end of the road was completely impassable and the water was up to the top and spilling roaringly across the road. Fences were down everywhere and the only thing keeping the livestock inside their pastures was the creek beds and ditches filled to brimming with water gushing down the roadways. We drove as far as we could, which wasn't that far, taking pictures of all the blocked routes we normally take in and out of our little village. The river had washed out three of the bridges and was dangerously close to several estate homes, including Tim McGraw's. The big stone entrance to his estate that has stood there since the late 1800's, was completely washed away. A lot of his fencing was demolished and I imagine he'll have quite the crew out there mending things the rest of this week, as will a lot of the farmers in our area. Naomi Judd even called in an alert to the local news station saying her fences had been washed out and her buffalo were roaming willy-nilly, so everyone should be on the lookout.

Parts of Nashville were completely under water. Hundreds of homes lost all over our area, with many neighborhoods completely wiped out. Even in downtown historic Franklin, we had canoes and rowboats floating up and down 5th Avenue! Unbelievable! Car dealerships with cars completely submerged. One news caster showed a man standing on Mallory Lane, a road in Franklin near our biggest shopping mall, and he had literally caught a fish with his bare hands! He stood there for the camera, proudly holding this humongous two foot long fish, and then he threw it back into the waters rushing through a swollen ditch. One person sent in video of a huge snapping turtle right at the foot of the steps of his front porch, partially submerged in a yard that resembled a small pond.

Hospitals were flooded, businesses lost. 15-foot flags and light poles along Riverfront Park in Nashville were completely under water. Opryland Hotel had to evacuate over 1,500 guests. Three local interstates were completely shut down in several areas and parts of Interstate 24 had stretches with hundreds of cars with water up over the rooftops. 124 cars and semi-trucks were stranded on one particular stretch of the interstate where the river ran up over the bridge and people had to be rescued by boat. Boats on the interstate!

All weekend long we watched reports of water rescues, both human and animal. Horses stuck out in flooded pastures that now resembled lakes, and all you could see was the tops of their heads straining to keep above water. We saw people standing on the tops of their roofs, waiting for boats to come and rescue them. Aerial shots of flooded neighborhoods with nothing but water as far as the eye could see. Cars piled on top of each other like toys, homes washed right off their foundations, huge dumpsters and storage sheds and even a portable classroom, floating down the roads like paper boats. After the water receded, you'd see asphalt buckled in ribbons all along the parking lots and streets, only to be washed further away with the next deluge of rain.

Today, as I made my way into work, the sun was shining brightly and there was nothing but blue skies above. There was only one route open in and out of town and traffic is bumper to bumper as it's being diverted until they can assess the damage to roadways and bridges that are still impassable. The forecast is nothing but sunshine for the rest of the week. As of right now, the death toll is 11 and I pray for all those who have lost everything in this terrible disaster!