Old Man Winter Retires

I think Old Man Winter has given up on us here in Tennessee this year. He's either gone into early retirement, or he's too busy bringing all that snow and Winter weather to all those poor folks in Alaska to worry with us. I for one am sorry to see that he's apparently looked us over. Here we are at the first of February already and we've only had two single days of snow. Those two days shouldn't really count because if you'd have blinked, you'd have missed the snow anyway! He barely gave us a dusting and it was gone in mere hours.

This morning on my way into work, I spotted clumps of daffodils already peeking their golden heads out in neighboring yards. I saw all the Canadian honkers on Tim McGraw's pond were already back too, which means we'll probably see some downy-headed goslings earlier than usual this year. My pansies are still blooming in my pots on the porch and haven't stopped since last Summer! I've never held onto them that long into another season. Our grass is still green and my donkeys haven't grown nearly as furry coats as they have in Winter's past. With all this warm rain we've been having, I wouldn't be surprised to see the early frogs and turtles playing in the mud puddles on the sides of the roads!

It's just not right! We should be having frost sparkling on the grass in the mornings and icicles hanging from the eaves. I want snow carpeting my yard and capping all the fence posts. Our dog Tubby just loves rolling around and dragging his belly across the snow. He'd stay out there and play for hours if we'd let him, but this year all we've had is one brief day with enough snow for him to get excited about, and later that same day it was all melted away.

Come on Old Man Winter! Please grace us with your arctic presence and bless us with some snowy white wonder. Puff up those billowy cheeks of yours and blow some glacial winds our way! Turn this rain into big, fluffy, magical snowflakes falling down all around us so we can put on our warm coats, hats and fuzzy scarves and gloves and enjoy all that Winter is supposed to be!

Happy Birthday Pretty Girl!

This past weekend, Hubby and I attended a surprise birthday party for a special lady's 80th birthday. Both sets of our own Grandma's have passed on, so a few years ago, we adopted this sweet lady near our home, as our very own Tennessee Grandma. Her name is Everna, but we call her Gran-E (Granny) and just love her to pieces. Sid spoils her like crazy and teases her mercilessly whenever he sees her. She's feisty and teases him right back. She's always got a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye and you always get at least a half dozen hugs every time we see her.

Granny has four sons and a daughter, who threw the lavish party for her. The party was held uptown in a building that was once an old grade school, but now is our community's rec center. It's also the place where Granny works part-time and where we first met her. Her children had the hall decked out when we arrived. There was a banquet hall filled with beautifully decorated tables. There was a huge table at the entry that was overflowing with gifts and next to the table stood a life-size cardboard cutout of Granny in her younger years that everyone was able to sign. They had a table filled with wonderful foods and desserts and another table with a grand, multi-tiered cake with fondant icing and chocolate covered strawberries draped on each layer. It was so pretty! There was a television set up in the back that played a DVD they had made of photos from when Granny was a young girl growing up, and all through the years with her siblings, then her husband, children and ultimately their children too. So many beautiful photos and in every one you could always pick out Granny from her beautiful smile. There were hundreds of happy photos and in all of them you could see what a full and wonderfully happy life of love Granny has led.

Granny's beautiful granddaughter Tara, who is the spitting image of Granny, by the way, was supposedly taking Granny to the Grand Ole Opry for a special treat, so Granny got all dressed up and was on her way when Tara asked if they could please stop off at the rec center so she could use the restroom real quick. Of course when they arrived, we were all waiting quietly in the darkened banquet hall and when they stepped in the door, we flipped on the lights and everyone yelled "Surprise!" You should have seen the look of shock on Granny's sweet face! It was priceless. She just kept looking all around at all the people and waving her arms. We all clapped and hollered and sang Happy Birthday as she went through the room and hugged every single person there. It was so cute. Once all the hugging was done, dinner was served and the Birthday girl was seated in her place of honor at the family table and donned with a sparkly tiara and a pink feather boa. She looked beautiful and was the well-deserved center of attention!

After dinner, Granny's one and only daughter, Linda, took Granny by the hand and led her out of the banquet hall and asked that everyone please follow them into the gymnasium. The gym was all set up with rows and rows of chairs and the stage was set for a concert of Bluegrass, which is Granny's favorite. Our own little Grand Ole Opry in Leiper's Fork! The family had hired a couple of bluegrass singers from Georgia by the name of The Buzzard Mountain Boys and they were fantastic! They played guitar, fiddle, banjo and mandolin and sang all kinds of funny, sweet, sad and sometimes familiar songs. In between songs, they told jokes and funny stories and kept us all laughing. Granny sat in the front row and was tapping her toes and dancing in her seat the whole time. During one song, one of her great-granddaughters, who couldn't have been more than five or six years old, asked Granny to dance, so the two of them took to the dance floor and held hands, dancing a little jig. It was so adorable. Both of them were grinning ear to ear.

When it came time to cut the cake, the family posed for more pictures. What a beautiful family they made as all four handsome sons and the one beautiful daughter surrounded a beaming Granny. Then once the bulbs stopped flashing and we all thought they were done, Linda calls out for another photo but they were missing one of the sons. I was confused at first, because I saw that all four sons were standing there, but Linda kept saying they were missing a son and pretty soon she called Sid up to the table. He was the fifth son! Sid was so touched by them honoring him as Granny's fifth son and he posed next to her and hugged her to him and whispered in her ear. What a memorable honor for him.

The cake was cut and served and oh was it ever yummy! More music with the Buzzard Mountain Boys followed cake and the party went on and on. I know Granny was just tickled pink with all the love that surrounded her that special night. It was the most beautiful party and we were so lucky to have been invited to share the memories. We love you Gran-E!

More Hay? No Way!

As much as I try to convince myself I've become quite the farm girl, living out in the boonies with three donkeys in a pasture does not a full-fledged farm girl make! I came to this conclusion while Hubby's been out of town on a job and I was left home alone to care for the brood all by myself.

Right before he left town he reminded me I needed to get some hay out for the donkeys. It's getting really cold out now and they've already polished off the big round bale Sid gave them less than two weeks ago. They eat like pigs, fattening themselves up for the Winter. I hurried home from work so I could get the hay out of the back barn before it got too dark. They'd have to settle for square bales because this girl CANNOT drive the tractor to haul a big round bale. Sid does all the tractor driving around here, not me! I can barely climb up on the darn thing. The tires are twice as tall as I am!

By the time I got home and let Tubs out to do his business, it was already starting to get dark. I jumped in the jeep and headed back to the barn, praying I'd make it up the hill and not get stuck. I don't know how to work the four-wheel-drive and I'm not used to driving a stick anymore after all this time driving my SUV. I pulled up to the barn and parked right out front so I could just toss the bales from the hayloft down to the jeep. Those bales weigh more than a baby walrus and I didn't want to have to haul them any farther than I had to. Lifting them up into the jeep was going to be hard enough.

I climbed out of the jeep and it dawned on me that not only had I forgot to bring some gloves, I also forgot to change out of my good clothes and shoes, let alone remember to bring a flashlight. The electricity to the barn has never worked right and some barn swallows built a nest around the light fixture closest to the lower entry door, so it doesn't work when you pull the string. So, in the semi-dark I started up the steps to the loft. No handrails to hold onto so I took it slow. The hayloft was even darker than downstairs, and as I took that last step up, I heard something rustling in the hay to my left and almost fell back down the steps! I could barely make out the shapes of the bales of hay in the corner, so I don't know what it was scurrying around up there, but I hurried to fling the loft doors open in hopes of letting in some light. As soon as I got them open, something flew out right over my head and nearly scared me half to death. I'm sure it must have been a big, hairy, rabid vampire bat with long pointy teeth, but more than likely it was just a cardinal or some other silly bird. Lord, help me hurry up and get the heck out of this barn in one piece!

With a little more light shining in, I was able to grab some bales and heave them out the loft doors to the jeep below. Luckily, all four bales stayed in tact and none of the strings popped off. I slammed the loft doors and pulled the latch and in record time I was back down those stairs and out of that creepy barn. Now to try and load these heavy bales. I will never again take for granted my helpful and manly husband! By the time I got all four bales crammed into the back of the jeep, my beautiful new winter dress coat was covered in hay and I had just as much hanging in my hair!

Back down the hill I drove and once I got to the gate, there were all three of my furry-faced donkeys in the corner of the fence waiting for me to unload the bounty. I closed the gate so our neighbor's horse couldn't get out. Heaven knows I don't need to be chasing after a runaway horse on top of all this! I drove the jeep down the fence line and all three donkeys ran alongside me bucking and kicking and hee-hawing all the way. They had their heads hanging over the fence, craning their necks toward the hay as soon as I stopped the jeep. Out with the bales and up over the fence, which just about gave me a hernia. Then I had to go into the shop for a knife to cut the strings, but when I got there, my knife wasn't in it's normal spot and I couldn't find it anywhere. I found a metal paint scraper that looked sharp enough to cut through the strings, so back outside I went.

Now its definitely dark as pitch and I can barely see my hand in front of my face. I opened the gate and all three donkeys instantly appeared in front of me like I was going to fill their grain buckets or something. I had to shoo them off just to swing the gate open. Sheesh. Usually, I'm not allowed into the donkey pasture alone unless Sid is home. Donkeys are unpredictable. They may love and adore me, but that doesn't mean they won't bite or tromple me to death trying to express that love!

It's a little unnerving walking through a dark pasture with three donkeys following so close behind you that you can feel their breath on the back of your neck. I had to pick up a stick to swing behind me to keep them at a safe distance. Finally, I got to the bales, cut and pulled the strings and scattered out the hay so they could eat. As soon as the last of the hay was scattered, all three piglets were munching away, so I made my way back across the barnyard only to step in a big pile of donkey muck.

It all happened so fast. One second I'm in my shoes and the next second I'm not. I lost my balance and pitched forward, landing on all fours. Umpf! Muck on my knees and hands and my shoes stuck behind me. I can only hope and pray its dark enough out here that none of my neighbors can see me in this most humiliating position! I was tempted to just roll over onto my back and lay there and cry, but I got myself up, pulled my shoes out of the poo and made my way back to the house. If ever I needed a bubble bath and a box of chocolates, it was now! And to top it all off, I broke a nail. Drat!

So, no, this prissified girlie-girl isn't quite ready to fully embrace farm life just yet. I'd really like to leave all the messy, difficult tasks to my big, strong Hubby instead. And to think I asked Santa for chickens and pigs this Christmas! Lord have mercy! I can only imagine the trouble I'd get myself into trying to take care of them!

Aches and Pains Before My Time

Getting old is for the birds! I've just had another birthday and while I believe myself to still be young, I sure don't feel it lately. My bones are aching and I just don't have the get-up-and-go that I always had before. I was reading an article about arthritis the other day (someone my age shouldn't even be THINKING about arthritis, let alone reading about it!) and was disheartened to read that people that suffered broken bones earlier in their lifetime, are more susceptible to get arthritis in and around those same areas later in their lives. Good heavens, I'm doomed! Do you know how many times I've broken bones in my body? Let's see if I can recall the most memorable. . .

There was that time when my sister and I were jumping like monkeys on our beds. I was laying on the floor and she was jumping on her bed and all I can remember with clarity is the evil gleam in her eye as she jumped right off the bed and onto my outstretched arm. It broke like a twig with a loud CRACK! and instantly swelled up to the size of a goose egg. Talk about ouch! To this day, I believe she did it on purpose, but I'm sure it was warranted. We were hellions to each other growing up, but that's another story. . .

And then there was the time when Mom took us girls to the park for the day. We took our bikes and rode them all around the park. Some older boys had climbed this gigantic, grassy hill with their bikes and were riding them down the hill like rockets shooting out of a cannon. Boy did it ever look like fun. I decided to take my purple bike with the sparkly banana seat and streamers on the handlebars, up the hill too. I remember thinking once I got up there, it sure looked like a long way down. I could see my Mom and sister at the bottom of the hill. Mom was waving her arms and begging me not to do what I was about to do. But, I had people to impress, so off I went. That hill was way steeper than I had anticipated and I got to going so fast that I couldn't even keep my feet on the pedals. The bike started wobbling like crazy over the bumpy grass and all I could see were trees all around that I hoped I could steer clear of. About halfway down and completely out of control, the bumpiness of the ride somehow loosened the screws holding my bike together and my handle bars completely popped right off! Oh boy! CRASH BANG BOOM and broken arm number two. I gave old Evel Knievel a run for his money though.

Then there was the time I broke my leg walking UP the stairs. Actually, I was running up them, but regardless, I felt pretty silly breaking my leg on the way up instead of on the way down like normal klutzy people would have. Hubby and I were getting ready for a weekend at the beach and I was so excited to be going that I just got too far ahead of myself and when I was running back inside for my bag, I fell and broke my leg. So much for the trip to the beach. I had a nice, pretty bright-pink cast on my leg for the next few months though, and had to learn to walk on crutches. A comedy in itself.

Oh and who could ever forget my broken leg when we first moved to Tennessee! I was driving to work one day and my brakes went out on my car. I was coming up on an intersection that was blocked off with construction workers standing in the middle of the road waving their flags, so the only choice I had to avoid running over the poor workers was to crank the wheel as far to the right as I could, flying into oncoming traffic and KAWHAM crashing head-on with a kazillion ton dump truck with a load full of gravel. You know how they say your whole life flashes before your eyes? Well, that's pretty much true. I just remember praying out loud and then bashing up into the windshield. Broke my leg in two places on the steering column and had to have surgery to have titanium pins put in it. Totalled the poor little car. Ugh. It's that particular leg that is giving me fits lately, with what I think must be arthritis. Some days I feel old as Methuselah limping around the house and my knee pops and creaks. And walking up the stairs every day for work just about does me in. Ugh again. . .

So, like I said, getting old is for the birds! I want to be youthful and pain free! No more birthdays for me from here on out. Instead of getting older, I'm going to go backwards and get young again! And Mr. Arthur Itis can just hit the road! He's no friend of mine!

I Stand Corrected

In one of my very first blog stories, I referred to someone as a "redneck." I've been informed that the term I should have used was "old school country", and I beg forgiveness because I truly never meant to use the word redneck as a derogatory description of this warm-hearted man I was writing the story about.

I, Queen of the Tenderhearted, never meant to hurt anyone's feelings and it just makes me cringe to think I might have even remotely hurt someone's feelings by calling them a redneck. So, I'm sorry and I'll try to be more careful in the future when describing people in my silly stories.

If anyone that hails from the South wants to refer to me as a "Damn Yankee", then please feel free, although I would like to point out that technically Oregon didn't have a thing to do with the Civil War (at least not that I know of), therefore I couldn't really be considered a Yankee. According to Wikpedia though, a Yankee is "someone from the North who comes to the South for a visit and then goes back. A Damn Yankee is someone from the North who comes to the South and stays!" It goes on to say that "Southerners assert that Yankees are loud, verbally aggressive, arrogant without reason, denigrating, ignorant, demanding, xenophobic (I don't know what the heck that means!) and possess no class or character."

I can honestly say that I am none of those things, with the exception of "ignorant" in that I carelessly referred to someone I have come to love and cherish as a friend, as a redneck. Please forgive me!

Bye-Bye Bombshell

When we first got our beloved Tubby, we bought him the most beautiful doggie bed. It was suede on one side and soft, furry lamb's wool on the other side and we just knew he would love it. We proudly presented it to him and the first thing he did was walk up to it, sniff it all over and then he proceeded to hump it. Not quite the reception we were expecting, to say the least!

I'm sure my jaw dropped to the floor and I covered my eyes, while Sid cracked up and rooted him on. This dog was disgusting! When it was obvious he was never going to use his bed for anything but a "girlfriend", we decided to give her a name. Sid named her "Bombshell" after Bombshell McGee.

From that first day on and all throughout his first year with us, Tubby and his Bombshell have been a hot and heavy item. He got to be so rambunctiously enamored with her that we had to move her out to the porch because he'd make so much noise attacking her non-stop all throughout the house. Heavy breathing, snorting, grunting and growling. The only thing missing was the corny background music. Doggie Porn in my living room. Gross!

Once we moved her outside, Tubby had a routine. Every night around eight, like clockwork he'd go to the front door and grunt in frustration until we'd let him out to be with his gal. He slams through the screen door and runs right to her and immediately climbs on top. No "Hi Honey, how was your day?" or whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Just wham-bam hummina-hummina and let's get busy! Isn't that just like a man? He'll stay out there with her for an hour rolling her from one side of the porch to the other, taking breaks every so often to catch his breath. He's definitely got record-breaking stamina, that's for sure. Sometimes we have to go out there and take her away from him before he gives himself a heart attack from overexertion. And let me tell you, that's no easy task! He about climbs up your leg to get to her when you hold her up to take her away.

Lately, we've noticed poor old Bombshell has been looking a little worse for the wear. She has holes in her where he's chewed her up and her stuffing is falling out all over the place. Sid decided it's time we sent her packing, so today he loaded them both up in the jeep for a ride to the dump. Of course Tubby was in heaven, "loving" on her the whole way down the road. Little did he know these were the last precious minutes he would have with his worn out Love Monkey.

They arrived at the dump and Sid climbed out of the jeep and yanked her out from underneath Tubs and tossed her into the bin. Tubby just watched her fly over the edge of the bin and looked back at his Dad like "What the heck!?" You had to wonder what was going through his mind as he looked back while they drove away and left her behind.

They drove straight into town in search of a new girlfriend and Sid found the perfect replacement at Tractor Supply for only $10. Now that's a cheap date! She was soft and furry and just the right size and Tubby fell in love with her instantly. He initiated their courtship all the way home and right now as I type this, Tubby lays next to her on the living room floor, snoring away. Wonder what we should name her? I'm thinking "Floozie" but we'll probably just end up calling her Bombshell too. The lengths we'll go to for love!

Ho! Ho! Ho! and Away We Go!

Well, Thanksgiving came and went in a whirlwind of chaotic jubilation this year! Mom flew in the weekend before and it seemed as though we never stopped to take a breath from the minute I picked her up at the airport. We ran our little legs off shopping and sightseeing, getting the house ready and preparing food that whole week. Every evening it was well after midnight before we fell into our beds and every morning we were up with the roosters crowing. No rest for the wicked, I guess.

Not that we stood any chance of sleeping in even if we'd wanted to, with Hubby out deer hunting at the crack of dawn every morning! He got an eight-point buck his first day out and brought it home to pose for pictures. The poor thing had it's tongue lolling out the side of its mouth and Sid was holding up it's head, grinning from ear to ear. The proud and mighty hunter! He got another buck Thanksgiving morning, much to our dismay. No sooner had he got the first one all cut up and packed away in the freezer and here he comes pulling another one into the yard while Mom and I are frantically slaving away in the kitchen trying to get veggies cut up, making the dressing and getting the bird ready for the oven. And then he had the nerve to bring in freshly cut venison tenderloin for us to fry up for his breakfast! Yuck! As if we had time for that! Men!

Dinner was a success and even our two desserts turned out good, despite the fact that it was my first time to make either one and we had to tromp up the hill to borrow powdered sugar from my sweet friend and neighbor late the night before. It's a pain living so far from the nearest grocery store.

We had two days of stuffing our faces and visiting with family, playing trivia games and sitting out back by the fire and then it was time to pack up the truck and haul Mom back to Okie-homa.
I thought we'd never get everything crammed into that truck what with all the stuff she was taking back with her and all the bags of loot we'd bought while out shopping. And we couldn't forget our precious Tubby. We could never leave him behind!

The 12-hour drive went faster than we thought, especially with Sid at the wheel. That man has a lead foot if I ever saw one! Poor Mom was praying fervently in the back seat while I watched out for cops hiding on the sides of the interstate and at every on-ramp. We spent two days at Mom's doing honey-do projects for her around the house, visiting with family and taking Tubby to see my 96 year old Prampa. Prampa was tickled pink to finally meet our slobbery bundle of joy and I think Tubby was just as excited to meet him too. We took lots of pictures and made a framed collage of all the photos for Prampa's bedroom wall. It was hilarious because Prampa had had some teeth pulled the week before and so he and Tubby had matching snaggleteeth on their bottom jaws. So funny!

After hugs and kisses and a long, tearful goodbye to Mom on Monday, we headed back home to Tennessee. Tubs was such a trooper and didn't seem to mind the long ride at all, which surprised us both. We thought for sure he'd be having a fit cooped up in a car that long, but he was really good. We stopped at a casino right before we crossed out of Oklahoma and into Arkansas and actually won some gas money, which was fun. We weren't in there more than 20 minutes and came out with $160 of the Thlopthlocco Indian Tribe's hard-earned money. Still not sure how to pronounce it, but thank you Chief of the Thlopthlocco's!

The drive through Arkansas was pretty uneventful until we got within 35 miles of Memphis and the rain turned into a downright snowy blizzard! Totally caught us off guard and woke us right up. Who needs Starbucks when you've got a snow storm to keep you awake?! The next four hours we drove through snow all the way home. I had a death grip on the passenger side door the whole way and my right leg was so stiff from me ramming it into my imaginary brake pedal on my side of the truck. There were fingernail indentions in the vinyl on the door and I was praying a hedge of protection around us the whole way, alternately wishing I had an iron skillet to bonk my maniac lead-footed husband over the head with at the same time! He's a wonderful driver and all, and we did manage to make it home in one piece, but I'm sure I've got at least a dozen more gray hairs on my head than I had when we left!

I never was so glad to see our sweet little house on the hollow then I was that night. It was after midnight when we finally landed in our cloud of a bed. I was plum wore out and didn't even object when Tubby hopped up to lay beside us. In a matter of minutes, both my boys were snoring away and I soon followed. When did holidays get to be so stressful? And now it's almost Christmas. Bah Humbug!