Hey, Y'all,
Well, I know you may not believe this - but, I was planning to do a "Z" on a subject and already had it worded in my head. Out of curiosity, I went back to a year ago to check and see what I had done for Z a year ago. Lo, and behold, it was the very same heading and subject, worded almost word for word what I planned to say today. So....no go, I just couldn't do it.
Zapped! Just like that...nothing to do but rethink my subject. Unlike the Zeppelin (zeppelins float), last year I was Zipping around, getting ready to come to Texas for grandson Matthew's wedding to our beloved Amy. By the time the day was over, I was Zonked, and the A to Z Challenge waZ Zup.
If you would like to know what my subject last year was, it is all in my archives, and it wasn't bad, even if I do say so. Ha.
This is Blabbin' Grammy, signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Yielding and Yellow
Hey, Y'all,
Did you ever notice how difficult it is to Yield? The stronger our will, the more difficult it becomes, I believe. When you come to one of those little triangular signs along the highway, do you ever just plow ahead without looking back to your left (usually the left) and think, "Oh, I can beat whatever is coming"?
I think the first time I ever came across the word was in the song, "Yield Not to Temptation", and then later when I was reading stories about Robin Hood, where he was fighting with a sword or with a cudgel, and had the other fellow down, he would say, "Yield, you varlet!" Of course, he meant for the fellow to give up, to cede victory and to just generally quit fighting before he had to kill him.
In the days of the old west, you were considered a "yellow-belly coward" if you didn't "draw" your six-shooter when challenged.
We usually find temptation is the easiest thing to yield to, don't we? It is the easiest path to take and causes the most pain to us and to others.
Like over two billion other people this morning, in the early hours, I watched a young woman marry the future king of England and wondered to how much she would have to yield in order to live the life ahead of her. I do not envy her, do you?
As humans, we have a strong sense of self and a lot of will-not within us. We find it difficult to yield, but discover that in order to live peaceably among others, we have to learn to yield sometimes. And of course, to become a Christian means that we must willingly yield our will and our lives to Christ. That is the sweetest yielding of all.
Speaking of the color yellow, one could not miss the Queen of England this morning. Her yellow attire stood out like the single candle on a birthday cake, did it not? I can not wear yellow because of my olive complexion, but she certainly looked smashing in it, did she not?
Well, that is about it for today. One more day of the A to Z Challenge, and although I didn't get around to a lot of other blogs, I intend to eventually get around to them, a few at a time, when I am not so pushed for time. This has been so much fun! Thanks to all of you who have been so faithful to come and see me.
This is Blabbin' Grammy, signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Did you ever notice how difficult it is to Yield? The stronger our will, the more difficult it becomes, I believe. When you come to one of those little triangular signs along the highway, do you ever just plow ahead without looking back to your left (usually the left) and think, "Oh, I can beat whatever is coming"?
I think the first time I ever came across the word was in the song, "Yield Not to Temptation", and then later when I was reading stories about Robin Hood, where he was fighting with a sword or with a cudgel, and had the other fellow down, he would say, "Yield, you varlet!" Of course, he meant for the fellow to give up, to cede victory and to just generally quit fighting before he had to kill him.
In the days of the old west, you were considered a "yellow-belly coward" if you didn't "draw" your six-shooter when challenged.
We usually find temptation is the easiest thing to yield to, don't we? It is the easiest path to take and causes the most pain to us and to others.
Like over two billion other people this morning, in the early hours, I watched a young woman marry the future king of England and wondered to how much she would have to yield in order to live the life ahead of her. I do not envy her, do you?
As humans, we have a strong sense of self and a lot of will-not within us. We find it difficult to yield, but discover that in order to live peaceably among others, we have to learn to yield sometimes. And of course, to become a Christian means that we must willingly yield our will and our lives to Christ. That is the sweetest yielding of all.
Speaking of the color yellow, one could not miss the Queen of England this morning. Her yellow attire stood out like the single candle on a birthday cake, did it not? I can not wear yellow because of my olive complexion, but she certainly looked smashing in it, did she not?
Well, that is about it for today. One more day of the A to Z Challenge, and although I didn't get around to a lot of other blogs, I intend to eventually get around to them, a few at a time, when I am not so pushed for time. This has been so much fun! Thanks to all of you who have been so faithful to come and see me.
This is Blabbin' Grammy, signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Xylophones and Other Dissonant Toys
Hey, Y'all,
You know, a wonderful thing about being grandparents, there are toys you can purchase for grandchildren that you wouldn't ordinarily buy for your own children...for one thing, that you probably didn't feel like you could afford when your children were small, but mostly because of the "noise factor". Ha.
There was the xylophone, an instrument that goes 'plink, plink, plonk' and not necessarily harmoniously, but definitely on and on and on. Then there was the set of toy drums, which makes a constant, irritating, bonk, bonk, bonk.
A trip to Dollywood produces one of those square, wooden train whistles that, eventually the sound of it, makes the adult want to grab it and throw it into the fire or into the nearest lake.
Then there is the little piano, and the little harmonica, all musical instruments that produce a lot of pleasure for the little ones, and not so much for the adults. Ha.
Another gift is the toy game called "Simon Says" that has a pattern that one attempts to repeat. This is a game that challenges the adults as well, but gets so frustrating that you want to throw it into the lake as well.
As for the point I was intending to make when I began this little story, is that as grandparents, we can make gifts of this variety of items to grandchildren, and not have to hear them more than just a little while, because they go with the parents, when they take the children with them. Ha. And when daughter or son, says, "Mom, (or Dad), you really shouldn't have", they really mean it. What --- they should deprive us of the pleasure of giving gifts to our grandchildren? (Just joking, Carol and Teresa)
I just saw on television that they had tornadoes through the part of Alabama that Tom and Teresa live in and am waiting to know if they had any damage and are safe. I haven't had any news yet. I will put an addendum when I hear.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Addendum: Tom and Teresa are okay. They were on their way to work when I called at 6:15 this morning, but probably would have to return home because of the fact that there was no electricity. A nuclear power plant near Huntsville was taken out by the tornado. She said a tornado touched down about two miles from where they live. Praise God they are both okay! There have been over 170 deaths over a five state area from the tornadoes over the past 36 or so hours.
You know, a wonderful thing about being grandparents, there are toys you can purchase for grandchildren that you wouldn't ordinarily buy for your own children...for one thing, that you probably didn't feel like you could afford when your children were small, but mostly because of the "noise factor". Ha.
There was the xylophone, an instrument that goes 'plink, plink, plonk' and not necessarily harmoniously, but definitely on and on and on. Then there was the set of toy drums, which makes a constant, irritating, bonk, bonk, bonk.
A trip to Dollywood produces one of those square, wooden train whistles that, eventually the sound of it, makes the adult want to grab it and throw it into the fire or into the nearest lake.
Then there is the little piano, and the little harmonica, all musical instruments that produce a lot of pleasure for the little ones, and not so much for the adults. Ha.
Another gift is the toy game called "Simon Says" that has a pattern that one attempts to repeat. This is a game that challenges the adults as well, but gets so frustrating that you want to throw it into the lake as well.
As for the point I was intending to make when I began this little story, is that as grandparents, we can make gifts of this variety of items to grandchildren, and not have to hear them more than just a little while, because they go with the parents, when they take the children with them. Ha. And when daughter or son, says, "Mom, (or Dad), you really shouldn't have", they really mean it. What --- they should deprive us of the pleasure of giving gifts to our grandchildren? (Just joking, Carol and Teresa)
I just saw on television that they had tornadoes through the part of Alabama that Tom and Teresa live in and am waiting to know if they had any damage and are safe. I haven't had any news yet. I will put an addendum when I hear.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Addendum: Tom and Teresa are okay. They were on their way to work when I called at 6:15 this morning, but probably would have to return home because of the fact that there was no electricity. A nuclear power plant near Huntsville was taken out by the tornado. She said a tornado touched down about two miles from where they live. Praise God they are both okay! There have been over 170 deaths over a five state area from the tornadoes over the past 36 or so hours.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Walter Bailey Young - In Remembrance
Hey, Y'all,
Just exactly nine months ago today, on July 27, 2010, my beloved Walter Bailey Young went to be with the Lord and is sorely missed. He was a graduate of Carson-Newman College in Jefferson City, Tennessee and taught middle schoolers in Jefferson County for twenty four years. He was a member of New Market Baptist Church where he served as a deacon for several years. When Walter (Dubby) introduced himself to people here in Texas, he would say, "I'm a Tennessee Man, and I love the Lord!" We had just moved to Texas three weeks earlier, moving him from a nursing home in Tennessee to Bishop Davies Nursing Home here, to be close to our daughter, and her family.
Let me tell you about Dubby in his own words:
"I was born in Honaker, a little mining town in Virginia. My dad was a hard rock miner. We moved to Jefferson City, Tennessee when I was only three months old. He was injured in the mines of Jefferson City when I was only three and not long after my younger sister, Bonnie Jean was born. He passed away from the injuries he received, and my mother was left to raise four children alone.
My mother encouraged me to go on to school and was largely responsible for my becoming an educator. I was born with two handicaps, Amblyopia in my left eye, and an extended jaw. The Amblyopia was never corrected, but when I was 53, I had surgery to correct the "lantern jaw", making a huge difference in how I felt about my appearance.
When I was fifty years old, I married Ruby and ended my bachelorhood, and gained a ready made family of children, which grew to contain grandchildren and great grandchildren. I also got more brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. What a great deal for me!
I have read the Bible through more times than I can remember. My mama really believed in the power of prayer, and so do I. One time when I was a child and really sick, she went out onto the back porch to pray for my recovery. She talked to the Lord like she knew Him and when she came back inside, she said, 'You are going to get better, and you are always going to be my good boy, aren't you?' I said, 'Yes', and I have always tried to be."
My Dubby was a man who could feel the pain of others who were handicapped, the unlovely, the broken-hearted. I believe that was because he always associated them with himself because of his physical flaws. He was not a handsome man as some would describe, but his heart was made of tender compassion, and he was handsome to me, because I knew the man. He was husband, father, grandfather and greatly beloved and respected by all those who knew him.
We were not wealthy, but had a wonderful life together, and I miss him.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. I want to wish a Happy Birthday to our great granddaughter, Hannah Gabrielle. She is ten years old. Wow, Daniel and Whitney, just three years away from being a teenager!! Congratulations, Hannah! I love you.
Bye for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later.
Just exactly nine months ago today, on July 27, 2010, my beloved Walter Bailey Young went to be with the Lord and is sorely missed. He was a graduate of Carson-Newman College in Jefferson City, Tennessee and taught middle schoolers in Jefferson County for twenty four years. He was a member of New Market Baptist Church where he served as a deacon for several years. When Walter (Dubby) introduced himself to people here in Texas, he would say, "I'm a Tennessee Man, and I love the Lord!" We had just moved to Texas three weeks earlier, moving him from a nursing home in Tennessee to Bishop Davies Nursing Home here, to be close to our daughter, and her family.
Let me tell you about Dubby in his own words:
"I was born in Honaker, a little mining town in Virginia. My dad was a hard rock miner. We moved to Jefferson City, Tennessee when I was only three months old. He was injured in the mines of Jefferson City when I was only three and not long after my younger sister, Bonnie Jean was born. He passed away from the injuries he received, and my mother was left to raise four children alone.
My mother encouraged me to go on to school and was largely responsible for my becoming an educator. I was born with two handicaps, Amblyopia in my left eye, and an extended jaw. The Amblyopia was never corrected, but when I was 53, I had surgery to correct the "lantern jaw", making a huge difference in how I felt about my appearance.
When I was fifty years old, I married Ruby and ended my bachelorhood, and gained a ready made family of children, which grew to contain grandchildren and great grandchildren. I also got more brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. What a great deal for me!
I have read the Bible through more times than I can remember. My mama really believed in the power of prayer, and so do I. One time when I was a child and really sick, she went out onto the back porch to pray for my recovery. She talked to the Lord like she knew Him and when she came back inside, she said, 'You are going to get better, and you are always going to be my good boy, aren't you?' I said, 'Yes', and I have always tried to be."
My Dubby was a man who could feel the pain of others who were handicapped, the unlovely, the broken-hearted. I believe that was because he always associated them with himself because of his physical flaws. He was not a handsome man as some would describe, but his heart was made of tender compassion, and he was handsome to me, because I knew the man. He was husband, father, grandfather and greatly beloved and respected by all those who knew him.
We were not wealthy, but had a wonderful life together, and I miss him.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. I want to wish a Happy Birthday to our great granddaughter, Hannah Gabrielle. She is ten years old. Wow, Daniel and Whitney, just three years away from being a teenager!! Congratulations, Hannah! I love you.
Bye for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Valedictory Speeches
Hey, Y'all,
Well, next month, all over our country (and others) millions of teenagers will be graduating from high school, and there are also millions who won't, for one reason or another. Sixty years ago, next month, I was one of those graduates. When I began high school in the unincorporated town of New Market, there were 45 freshmen. By the time I graduated in 1951, there were five boys and twelve girls. There would have been thirteen girls, but one of them became ill with cancer and passed away. That was my first knowledge of something like cancer taking people away.
I was striving for good grades all through high school, but was surprised when my home room teacher informed me that I was to be valedictorian of the class and told me that my rival in grades, Allan D., was to be salutatorian. That was the first I had ever heard of such titles. She gave me a prepared speech that I was to memorize and give at our graduation exercises.
Through the years, I have remembered (mostly) the poem that I had to recite. I have also taken great pride in the fact of achieving that honor. I gave little credit to where it was due...to my parents for always encouraging me, to God for giving me the mental abilities, and the circumstances which provided me the chance to become all that I could be. I know that if I had chosen not to work hard through the years in school, it would not have turned out well, but I reckon maybe it was just in my genes and I know I owe a lot more to others than to my own self.
Here is the poem, not as I remember all the words, but as it was written by Douglas Malloch. I had to look it up to make sure of them all. Sixty years, after all, is a long time to remember exactly.
BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE
If you can't be a pine on top of the hill
Be a scrub in the valley - but be,
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can't be a tree.
If you can't be a bush, be a bit of the grass,
And some highway some happier make;
If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-
But the liveliest bass in the lake!
We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here.
There's big work to do and there's lesser to do,
And the task we must do is the near.
If you can't be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail-
Be the best of whatever you are!
I located this poem on the internet (to check the accuracy of my memory) and if you are a lover of poetry as I am, you might want to check out the website and read some of the other poems in the book. http://www.pinkpoem.com
I wrote about being valedictorian not for praise today, but to give thanks to God for the advantages that He has provided in my lifetime.
Seniors, don't stop learning, don't stop reading until you have to, then listen to books on tape, and keep the old brain cells stirred up and active. Young people, ditto, keep learning, if you write, keep writing. Lastly, (and not least) remember from whence you came and the Creator who gives you life.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
Well, next month, all over our country (and others) millions of teenagers will be graduating from high school, and there are also millions who won't, for one reason or another. Sixty years ago, next month, I was one of those graduates. When I began high school in the unincorporated town of New Market, there were 45 freshmen. By the time I graduated in 1951, there were five boys and twelve girls. There would have been thirteen girls, but one of them became ill with cancer and passed away. That was my first knowledge of something like cancer taking people away.
I was striving for good grades all through high school, but was surprised when my home room teacher informed me that I was to be valedictorian of the class and told me that my rival in grades, Allan D., was to be salutatorian. That was the first I had ever heard of such titles. She gave me a prepared speech that I was to memorize and give at our graduation exercises.
Through the years, I have remembered (mostly) the poem that I had to recite. I have also taken great pride in the fact of achieving that honor. I gave little credit to where it was due...to my parents for always encouraging me, to God for giving me the mental abilities, and the circumstances which provided me the chance to become all that I could be. I know that if I had chosen not to work hard through the years in school, it would not have turned out well, but I reckon maybe it was just in my genes and I know I owe a lot more to others than to my own self.
Here is the poem, not as I remember all the words, but as it was written by Douglas Malloch. I had to look it up to make sure of them all. Sixty years, after all, is a long time to remember exactly.
BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE
If you can't be a pine on top of the hill
Be a scrub in the valley - but be,
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can't be a tree.
If you can't be a bush, be a bit of the grass,
And some highway some happier make;
If you can't be a muskie then just be a bass-
But the liveliest bass in the lake!
We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here.
There's big work to do and there's lesser to do,
And the task we must do is the near.
If you can't be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail-
Be the best of whatever you are!
I located this poem on the internet (to check the accuracy of my memory) and if you are a lover of poetry as I am, you might want to check out the website and read some of the other poems in the book. http://www.pinkpoem.com
I wrote about being valedictorian not for praise today, but to give thanks to God for the advantages that He has provided in my lifetime.
Seniors, don't stop learning, don't stop reading until you have to, then listen to books on tape, and keep the old brain cells stirred up and active. Young people, ditto, keep learning, if you write, keep writing. Lastly, (and not least) remember from whence you came and the Creator who gives you life.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Unprepared
Hey, Y'all,
At one time, all over America were signs in the shape of the cross upon which were printed the words, "Prepare to Meet God". They were constant reminders to travelers that we can be living one minute and be in Eternity the next. So, my question for you today, is..."Are you prepared to meet God?"
Yesterday, we celebrated Easter. Easter is a Christian holiday, and for a great majority of people, it means only dressing in finery, attending church the first time since Christmas, coming home to eat a feast, and hunt for for Easter Eggs hidden by the Easter Bunny. That will be the last time they will darken the door of church until Christmas when they go to see a pageant that has children performing. Don't get me wrong...it is not the going to church that makes one a Christian...it is the acceptance of Christ as a personal Savior. I go to church because it keeps me connected to fellow believers through communal worship.
A friend of mine related how she was at the beauty shop getting a pedicure and the beautician asked her, "What is this Easter and why do you celebrate it?" She got to tell them about Jesus, and how He is the only begotten Son of God, and how over 2000 years ago, He was born to a virgin, grew up and then willingly gave His life in sacrifice on the cross, for the sins of mankind, was buried, and three days later came to life again and forty days later, returned to Heaven where he now lives. He sent the Holy Spirit to be a Comforter to those who become believers and also to draw people to believe in Him. She also got to tell her about how the Holy Bible contains the stories of Jesus and how it is a guide for Christians to live by.
After she told the story to the person doing the pedicure, she found out that they were just filling in for another person and they got up and asked her to tell the story to another operator, and she got to relate it again. The operators had never heard about Jesus. Isn't that a wonderful opportunity? That made me realize that perhaps some of you who read my blog don't know my Jesus and how wonderful He is. He has helped me with my troubles, and continues to do so. He is there for me each day, and gives me comfort. He knows me and I know Him.
If you have not accepted Jesus as a personal Savior, and don't have a daily personal relationship with Him, you are not prepared to meet God and I would ask you to make your preparations. He loves you, he died for you, he arose from the dead, and wants to forgive you for your sins, so that you will not die and go to a Devil's Hell, and so that you can live on in Heaven with Christ after you die.
That is not the only reason, though. Christ gives us strength to deal with life's daily struggles, and fills our hearts with love for others. If you have never read about Jesus, get your hands on a Holy Bible, turn to the Book of John in the second half of it, and read that. It is a good place to begin. Then move on to the other Gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke. Then read the book of Romans which relates how to become a Christian. Believing in Jesus with one's head is not enough; it is believing with one's heart that is the important thing and accepting Jesus' sacrifice, knowing in your heart that He died for you. Jesus loves you.
We make preparations for almost every important step in life, why not make preparations for the final step? Why not take steps to make your life meaningful before you take that final step into Eternity?
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
At one time, all over America were signs in the shape of the cross upon which were printed the words, "Prepare to Meet God". They were constant reminders to travelers that we can be living one minute and be in Eternity the next. So, my question for you today, is..."Are you prepared to meet God?"
Yesterday, we celebrated Easter. Easter is a Christian holiday, and for a great majority of people, it means only dressing in finery, attending church the first time since Christmas, coming home to eat a feast, and hunt for for Easter Eggs hidden by the Easter Bunny. That will be the last time they will darken the door of church until Christmas when they go to see a pageant that has children performing. Don't get me wrong...it is not the going to church that makes one a Christian...it is the acceptance of Christ as a personal Savior. I go to church because it keeps me connected to fellow believers through communal worship.
A friend of mine related how she was at the beauty shop getting a pedicure and the beautician asked her, "What is this Easter and why do you celebrate it?" She got to tell them about Jesus, and how He is the only begotten Son of God, and how over 2000 years ago, He was born to a virgin, grew up and then willingly gave His life in sacrifice on the cross, for the sins of mankind, was buried, and three days later came to life again and forty days later, returned to Heaven where he now lives. He sent the Holy Spirit to be a Comforter to those who become believers and also to draw people to believe in Him. She also got to tell her about how the Holy Bible contains the stories of Jesus and how it is a guide for Christians to live by.
After she told the story to the person doing the pedicure, she found out that they were just filling in for another person and they got up and asked her to tell the story to another operator, and she got to relate it again. The operators had never heard about Jesus. Isn't that a wonderful opportunity? That made me realize that perhaps some of you who read my blog don't know my Jesus and how wonderful He is. He has helped me with my troubles, and continues to do so. He is there for me each day, and gives me comfort. He knows me and I know Him.
If you have not accepted Jesus as a personal Savior, and don't have a daily personal relationship with Him, you are not prepared to meet God and I would ask you to make your preparations. He loves you, he died for you, he arose from the dead, and wants to forgive you for your sins, so that you will not die and go to a Devil's Hell, and so that you can live on in Heaven with Christ after you die.
That is not the only reason, though. Christ gives us strength to deal with life's daily struggles, and fills our hearts with love for others. If you have never read about Jesus, get your hands on a Holy Bible, turn to the Book of John in the second half of it, and read that. It is a good place to begin. Then move on to the other Gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke. Then read the book of Romans which relates how to become a Christian. Believing in Jesus with one's head is not enough; it is believing with one's heart that is the important thing and accepting Jesus' sacrifice, knowing in your heart that He died for you. Jesus loves you.
We make preparations for almost every important step in life, why not make preparations for the final step? Why not take steps to make your life meaningful before you take that final step into Eternity?
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Thinkin' All the Time
Hey, Y'all,
Well, today's topic is Thinkin' All the Time. Ya' see, I like to say that about myself when I make a joke about something someone has just said. I'm bad or good about that. I know that people have different ways of listening, and my way of listening is very visual. I visualize as people are talking about things and see what they are saying and sometimes I visualize what they are not saying. I see a picture of one of the words they use as something different. It is a little difficult to explain. Then I make a joke about the picture of one of the words they used but they didn't mean the word to be used that way. (Does this make sense to you, or do I sound nutsy? ha)
Then I try to explain it to them and sometimes they "get" it, and sometimes I think they just pretend to get it. Then I tap my head and say, "I'm thinkin' all the time," and laugh.
I don't know about other people's thought processes, I only know about mine and always assumed that other people thought in the same way as I, until a few years ago, when I began realizing that people just didn't get it, when I made jokes, especially about something in what they had just said. I view life in a humorous way a lot of times, not always funny but just kind of quirky and I suppose am surprised when others fail to see that quirkiness. We always had a lot of laughter in our house as I grew up.
My dad had a wonderful sense of the everyday fun in life, and was forever joking around with mom. He would walk into the kitchen and pull on her apron strings, untying them. She would say, "Jim Campbell, you quit that!" and he would get her to laugh. My sister and I would laugh about just about anything, and my brother, John, and I would make jokes and silly stuff. My brother, Hugh, was always good for making jokes, too. My two older brothers were so much older than I, that I didn't really know them much growing up but I know they loved a good laugh as well.
As usual this topic turned itself around and became different than what I intended it to be. Anyway, just to let you know, I see what you are saying, literally, when you speak, and it helps me to understand you. Because, even as you speak, I am "thinkin' all the time" and visualizing in mental pictures.
When you say "I mislay my glasses all the time" I may see you putting down glasses of water or milk, and forgetting where they are, or I could see you putting down your eyeglasses, which is what you really meant. Maybe that is the artist in me. Who knows?
Well, this is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, today's topic is Thinkin' All the Time. Ya' see, I like to say that about myself when I make a joke about something someone has just said. I'm bad or good about that. I know that people have different ways of listening, and my way of listening is very visual. I visualize as people are talking about things and see what they are saying and sometimes I visualize what they are not saying. I see a picture of one of the words they use as something different. It is a little difficult to explain. Then I make a joke about the picture of one of the words they used but they didn't mean the word to be used that way. (Does this make sense to you, or do I sound nutsy? ha)
Then I try to explain it to them and sometimes they "get" it, and sometimes I think they just pretend to get it. Then I tap my head and say, "I'm thinkin' all the time," and laugh.
I don't know about other people's thought processes, I only know about mine and always assumed that other people thought in the same way as I, until a few years ago, when I began realizing that people just didn't get it, when I made jokes, especially about something in what they had just said. I view life in a humorous way a lot of times, not always funny but just kind of quirky and I suppose am surprised when others fail to see that quirkiness. We always had a lot of laughter in our house as I grew up.
My dad had a wonderful sense of the everyday fun in life, and was forever joking around with mom. He would walk into the kitchen and pull on her apron strings, untying them. She would say, "Jim Campbell, you quit that!" and he would get her to laugh. My sister and I would laugh about just about anything, and my brother, John, and I would make jokes and silly stuff. My brother, Hugh, was always good for making jokes, too. My two older brothers were so much older than I, that I didn't really know them much growing up but I know they loved a good laugh as well.
As usual this topic turned itself around and became different than what I intended it to be. Anyway, just to let you know, I see what you are saying, literally, when you speak, and it helps me to understand you. Because, even as you speak, I am "thinkin' all the time" and visualizing in mental pictures.
When you say "I mislay my glasses all the time" I may see you putting down glasses of water or milk, and forgetting where they are, or I could see you putting down your eyeglasses, which is what you really meant. Maybe that is the artist in me. Who knows?
Well, this is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Some Stressful Scenarios Concerning Seniors
Hey, Y'all,
Here is a look at events from a senior's viewpoint in particular: Some Stressful Scenarios for Seniors...
Taking medications and not being sure which ones you have or have not taken (this is solved with a pill minder, mostly) but have you ever dropped one of them and not been sure which one it was, and then couldn't locate any of them on the floor? That way you don't know which it was that you dropped. You get down on your hands and knees to look for it with a flashlight, then if you do find it, you have trouble getting back up to your feet. If you don't find it, you just hope it was a vitamin instead of a necessary pill.
You're in the tub, naked as a Jaybird (ever wonder why a Jaybird is more naked than any other bird? Why not naked as a Robin or a Hummingbird? ) and all at once you feel your feet slipping and there's nothing to hang onto, even with those little grabby things you put in your bathtub floor to make it less slippery? Those are not a whole lot of help when you have shampoo suds in the tub.
You know a bill is soon to be due and you're not sure if you have received it yet, and you look over your entire domicile and can't find any evidence of it. You check through your check book and see it hasn't been paid...where is it...did it come in the mail yet..or not?
You are talking to a friend, and are about to tell them a funny thing that happened, and all at once, you forget the name of something or someone that you have known for years, and it's like you've never known it...it's gone.
You are on the verge of getting out of bed, and realize you are on the edge of the bed (closer than you thought) and literally nearly roll out of bed, with nothing to grab onto. Ha.
You've been married for years, then all at once, your mate is no longer with you, someone you've depended on, someone you've been able to share things with, and now...what? You awake alone and when you hear a sound, you realize you are the one making the sound.
What happens when one can no longer drive, and get around on their own? What if there is no money for a retirement community? Then what? Talk about a scary scenario! For more reasons than one.
As for the scenario of what happens if one does fall and break a leg or a hip, we won't go there, because I have been down that road with my sister and my husband, and it isn't a pretty road...and is perhaps the scariest of all...
Well, as usual, this post just kind of wrote itself, and I didn't control the route it took, it just happened. Those are just a few of the scary scenarios in the life of seniors. I'm headed for the local library later today, a pleasant journey for sure, and I also have to work on learning the music for our Easter music. We have a two hour rehearsal at the church tomorrow.
One more scary scenario concerning seniors - winding up with nothing to occupy their hands or their minds - don't let that happen to anyone you love, or to yourself, either.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Here is a look at events from a senior's viewpoint in particular: Some Stressful Scenarios for Seniors...
Taking medications and not being sure which ones you have or have not taken (this is solved with a pill minder, mostly) but have you ever dropped one of them and not been sure which one it was, and then couldn't locate any of them on the floor? That way you don't know which it was that you dropped. You get down on your hands and knees to look for it with a flashlight, then if you do find it, you have trouble getting back up to your feet. If you don't find it, you just hope it was a vitamin instead of a necessary pill.
You're in the tub, naked as a Jaybird (ever wonder why a Jaybird is more naked than any other bird? Why not naked as a Robin or a Hummingbird? ) and all at once you feel your feet slipping and there's nothing to hang onto, even with those little grabby things you put in your bathtub floor to make it less slippery? Those are not a whole lot of help when you have shampoo suds in the tub.
You know a bill is soon to be due and you're not sure if you have received it yet, and you look over your entire domicile and can't find any evidence of it. You check through your check book and see it hasn't been paid...where is it...did it come in the mail yet..or not?
You are talking to a friend, and are about to tell them a funny thing that happened, and all at once, you forget the name of something or someone that you have known for years, and it's like you've never known it...it's gone.
You are on the verge of getting out of bed, and realize you are on the edge of the bed (closer than you thought) and literally nearly roll out of bed, with nothing to grab onto. Ha.
You've been married for years, then all at once, your mate is no longer with you, someone you've depended on, someone you've been able to share things with, and now...what? You awake alone and when you hear a sound, you realize you are the one making the sound.
What happens when one can no longer drive, and get around on their own? What if there is no money for a retirement community? Then what? Talk about a scary scenario! For more reasons than one.
As for the scenario of what happens if one does fall and break a leg or a hip, we won't go there, because I have been down that road with my sister and my husband, and it isn't a pretty road...and is perhaps the scariest of all...
Well, as usual, this post just kind of wrote itself, and I didn't control the route it took, it just happened. Those are just a few of the scary scenarios in the life of seniors. I'm headed for the local library later today, a pleasant journey for sure, and I also have to work on learning the music for our Easter music. We have a two hour rehearsal at the church tomorrow.
One more scary scenario concerning seniors - winding up with nothing to occupy their hands or their minds - don't let that happen to anyone you love, or to yourself, either.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Restaurants
Hey, Y'all,
Can you believe it? We only have a few more days left on our A to Z challenge. It has passed so very quickly. In that time, I have learned the way to two more eating places. Ha.
You know, I used to think that it would be easy cooking for one...after all, that is one less than cooking for two, which I had been doing for years. Not so, friends, and for one thing, you have the input of the other person. I have discovered over the past eight or so months since the passing of my Sweetie Pie, that cooking for one is quite difficult. For another reason is the fact that if the other person was a good eater, he could eat more than you do, and you didn't have to worry about left-overs. Ha. If there were left-overs, they didn't last forever till you got tired of eating them.
Thus, to the restaurants and other eating places. Let me tell you about some that I have discovered in this, my new living area during the past nine months. The first one I discovered was Le Peep's which serves breakfast until 3 p.m. and then closes. Then there was IHOP which serves all day long. When Dubby and I visited Carol and Daryl here in Bedford, we discovered Denny's where Dubby and I often enjoyed eating, so I knew where it was already.
Then Carol took me to Mooyah's which serves burgers. I also discovered Bailey's Cafe which is another one that serves breakfast and lunch and then closes around 2 p.m. I found it when I was shopping at Hobby Lobby. Then I found Freddy's Steakburgers. They are sooooooooo good when you want a good hamburger. Some of the others are locations of Texas Roadhouse, Fuddruckers, Central Market and Cotton Patch Cafe.
On Monday evening, I went with a group of mostly seniors from my church to eat at Fuddrucker's and had a wonderful time. One of the ladies in the group made some pictures and this is one of the pictures she took.
However, one of the best places to eat and the most enjoyable is at the home of family members here in Bedford. At my grandson, Andrew and Julia's, and also my daughter, Carol and Daryl's, the home atmosphere and the food is absolutely the best. Which brings me to the fact that I missed a birthday party last night because I had a choir rehearsal for Easter music that I just couldn't miss. Yesterday was granddaughter Amy's (Matthew's wife) birthday and they had a surprise party for her. I haven't heard about it yet, but I am sure they had fun! My apologies, Amy, for missing it. I hope it was wonderful! I love you, Amy!
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
.
Can you believe it? We only have a few more days left on our A to Z challenge. It has passed so very quickly. In that time, I have learned the way to two more eating places. Ha.
You know, I used to think that it would be easy cooking for one...after all, that is one less than cooking for two, which I had been doing for years. Not so, friends, and for one thing, you have the input of the other person. I have discovered over the past eight or so months since the passing of my Sweetie Pie, that cooking for one is quite difficult. For another reason is the fact that if the other person was a good eater, he could eat more than you do, and you didn't have to worry about left-overs. Ha. If there were left-overs, they didn't last forever till you got tired of eating them.
Thus, to the restaurants and other eating places. Let me tell you about some that I have discovered in this, my new living area during the past nine months. The first one I discovered was Le Peep's which serves breakfast until 3 p.m. and then closes. Then there was IHOP which serves all day long. When Dubby and I visited Carol and Daryl here in Bedford, we discovered Denny's where Dubby and I often enjoyed eating, so I knew where it was already.
Then Carol took me to Mooyah's which serves burgers. I also discovered Bailey's Cafe which is another one that serves breakfast and lunch and then closes around 2 p.m. I found it when I was shopping at Hobby Lobby. Then I found Freddy's Steakburgers. They are sooooooooo good when you want a good hamburger. Some of the others are locations of Texas Roadhouse, Fuddruckers, Central Market and Cotton Patch Cafe.
However, one of the best places to eat and the most enjoyable is at the home of family members here in Bedford. At my grandson, Andrew and Julia's, and also my daughter, Carol and Daryl's, the home atmosphere and the food is absolutely the best. Which brings me to the fact that I missed a birthday party last night because I had a choir rehearsal for Easter music that I just couldn't miss. Yesterday was granddaughter Amy's (Matthew's wife) birthday and they had a surprise party for her. I haven't heard about it yet, but I am sure they had fun! My apologies, Amy, for missing it. I hope it was wonderful! I love you, Amy!
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Quest (fiction)
Hey, Y'all,
The Quest ( a work of fiction)
Billy was a city boy, and he was lost. He had been on the bus, on his way to find family. He didn't know where he was, and he had lost track of what day it was; he only knew he was lost, hungry and alone. In his possession was a letter from his Grandma that he had carried around with him as he searched for her. It was much folded and creased from reading and rereading. His mom had passed away and his dad was gone, having deserted them before Billy was even four years old. For the past seven years it had been just Billy and Mom.
Mom had been a factory worker until the economy took a dive, and she was laid off. Then it was a succession of jobs in restaurants and fast food places. Finally, she came down with a cough, and after having x-rays, it was determined that she had tuberculosis. Then pneumonia attacked her weakened lungs; early one morning, she was gone and Billy was left alone. Back when she was working at the factory, she took out a life insurance policy. By scraping together the pennies, she kept up the payments.
It was barely enough to pay for her funeral expenses. Her sister, Anna, made the final arrangements and they laid her to rest. Anna and her husband, Victor, had three children of their own and didn't want to take on another child to raise. Anna wrote to their mother who lived in the Midwest on a farm and asked if Billy could come out there. Grandma Hilda wrote back that yes, of course, he could come and she sent money in a letter with instructions for Billy. Anna bought the ticket and helped Billy pack his little suitcase.
Time came for Billy to leave. Anna hugged him and told him to be careful. Victor took him to the Trailways bus station, and gave him twenty dollars to spend on food as he went. The driver stowed Billy's bag in the compartment underneath the bus, and Billy mounted the steps, waving to Uncle Victor. Billy could hardly contain his excitement. After riding for about three hours, Billy realized he was hungry. He hadn't eaten much for breakfast, and was ravenous.
Billy had never been out of New York City in all his life, and knew nothing about living on a farm or even in the suburbs. He also didn't know anything about long distance traveling on a bus. When the bus stopped for the first time, and he got off, the driver began removing bags from the bus, and Billy picked up his bag. It was time to change buses. Billy went into the terminal and looked around....
Well, folks, that is it. A good beginning for a longer story. How do you think Billy got lost?
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
The Quest ( a work of fiction)
Billy was a city boy, and he was lost. He had been on the bus, on his way to find family. He didn't know where he was, and he had lost track of what day it was; he only knew he was lost, hungry and alone. In his possession was a letter from his Grandma that he had carried around with him as he searched for her. It was much folded and creased from reading and rereading. His mom had passed away and his dad was gone, having deserted them before Billy was even four years old. For the past seven years it had been just Billy and Mom.
Mom had been a factory worker until the economy took a dive, and she was laid off. Then it was a succession of jobs in restaurants and fast food places. Finally, she came down with a cough, and after having x-rays, it was determined that she had tuberculosis. Then pneumonia attacked her weakened lungs; early one morning, she was gone and Billy was left alone. Back when she was working at the factory, she took out a life insurance policy. By scraping together the pennies, she kept up the payments.
It was barely enough to pay for her funeral expenses. Her sister, Anna, made the final arrangements and they laid her to rest. Anna and her husband, Victor, had three children of their own and didn't want to take on another child to raise. Anna wrote to their mother who lived in the Midwest on a farm and asked if Billy could come out there. Grandma Hilda wrote back that yes, of course, he could come and she sent money in a letter with instructions for Billy. Anna bought the ticket and helped Billy pack his little suitcase.
Time came for Billy to leave. Anna hugged him and told him to be careful. Victor took him to the Trailways bus station, and gave him twenty dollars to spend on food as he went. The driver stowed Billy's bag in the compartment underneath the bus, and Billy mounted the steps, waving to Uncle Victor. Billy could hardly contain his excitement. After riding for about three hours, Billy realized he was hungry. He hadn't eaten much for breakfast, and was ravenous.
Billy had never been out of New York City in all his life, and knew nothing about living on a farm or even in the suburbs. He also didn't know anything about long distance traveling on a bus. When the bus stopped for the first time, and he got off, the driver began removing bags from the bus, and Billy picked up his bag. It was time to change buses. Billy went into the terminal and looked around....
Well, folks, that is it. A good beginning for a longer story. How do you think Billy got lost?
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Planning and Practicality
Hey, Y'all,
Well, now, this subject took a little bit of thinking, because there are so many good "P" words, but I decided after much thought, to do Planning and Practicality. Those are things that I know a lot about because I am a practical planner. I do a lot of thinking and planning before I even leave the house to go somewhere. I must have the route planned in my mind. I like to be able, when I can, to wind up turning to my right to go into a designated place. I know that sounds kind of off-the-wall, but that is just how I am. It makes life so much easier if one doesn't have to go against the oncoming traffic.
I am a quilter of sorts (no expert), but I plan how the quilt is going to look before I ever start it. I plan how many blocks of a particular color or design there are going to be. I visualize the whole quilt before I even cut a piece of cloth. I design many of my own.
If you could see my workroom, you would think that I am the most disorganized person, but I know where (almost) everything is in here. I spend about 12 to 15 of my waking hours in here, because I am at my computer a good deal of that time. This room is also where I sew and sometimes study. The rest of my waking time is spent in the kitchen, because I like to read when I eat my meals, and of course the kitchen must be cleaned and laundry must be done.
I used to think that I had to wear really dressy shoes to church, but recently, with the pain in my back, I have gone to cute little tennis shoes (Rocket Dogs) for my weary dogs and aching back and no one cares what I wear on my feet. The tennis shoes are practical and I love not caring what people think when they see them. In fact, sometimes I point them out, and laugh. They laugh with me, not at me. When you reach my age, you can wear pretty much what you wish and no one cares. You can just be considered eccentric. Ha.
I went to supper last evening with a group of seniors from my church and had an absolute blast. We went to a local Fuddruckers, and I had to determine which one we were going to, and Carol very kindly helped me with that. I literally obsessed over which one it was, because there are two that are on the same access road just a few miles apart. I had to know, of course, which one it was, and I had no phone number to call any of the people who were in the group. I looked on the internet to locate the place, and finally decided that if I got the wrong Fuddruckers, I would just eat and not worry about it. That's me, practical and planner.
Living alone, I have a lot of time for thinking and so, I do a lot of thinking. I am quite content within my self, but I enjoy being around others and having fun. Life is too short to spend it moping around. I say, "Go for the gusto!" (OOps! I guess this is a carryover from yesterday's optimism. Ha) I am looking forward to practicing for our Easter Music and singing praise to God for all He has done for me. It is quite painful standing for a long time, but He gives me strength to do so. I also look forward to more Monday evening meals with my friends. (Pictures coming soon from that get together, because one of the ladies in the group took pictures and is going to e-mail them to me).
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, now, this subject took a little bit of thinking, because there are so many good "P" words, but I decided after much thought, to do Planning and Practicality. Those are things that I know a lot about because I am a practical planner. I do a lot of thinking and planning before I even leave the house to go somewhere. I must have the route planned in my mind. I like to be able, when I can, to wind up turning to my right to go into a designated place. I know that sounds kind of off-the-wall, but that is just how I am. It makes life so much easier if one doesn't have to go against the oncoming traffic.
I am a quilter of sorts (no expert), but I plan how the quilt is going to look before I ever start it. I plan how many blocks of a particular color or design there are going to be. I visualize the whole quilt before I even cut a piece of cloth. I design many of my own.
If you could see my workroom, you would think that I am the most disorganized person, but I know where (almost) everything is in here. I spend about 12 to 15 of my waking hours in here, because I am at my computer a good deal of that time. This room is also where I sew and sometimes study. The rest of my waking time is spent in the kitchen, because I like to read when I eat my meals, and of course the kitchen must be cleaned and laundry must be done.
I used to think that I had to wear really dressy shoes to church, but recently, with the pain in my back, I have gone to cute little tennis shoes (Rocket Dogs) for my weary dogs and aching back and no one cares what I wear on my feet. The tennis shoes are practical and I love not caring what people think when they see them. In fact, sometimes I point them out, and laugh. They laugh with me, not at me. When you reach my age, you can wear pretty much what you wish and no one cares. You can just be considered eccentric. Ha.
I went to supper last evening with a group of seniors from my church and had an absolute blast. We went to a local Fuddruckers, and I had to determine which one we were going to, and Carol very kindly helped me with that. I literally obsessed over which one it was, because there are two that are on the same access road just a few miles apart. I had to know, of course, which one it was, and I had no phone number to call any of the people who were in the group. I looked on the internet to locate the place, and finally decided that if I got the wrong Fuddruckers, I would just eat and not worry about it. That's me, practical and planner.
Living alone, I have a lot of time for thinking and so, I do a lot of thinking. I am quite content within my self, but I enjoy being around others and having fun. Life is too short to spend it moping around. I say, "Go for the gusto!" (OOps! I guess this is a carryover from yesterday's optimism. Ha) I am looking forward to practicing for our Easter Music and singing praise to God for all He has done for me. It is quite painful standing for a long time, but He gives me strength to do so. I also look forward to more Monday evening meals with my friends. (Pictures coming soon from that get together, because one of the ladies in the group took pictures and is going to e-mail them to me).
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Optimism and Obstinancy
Hey, Y'all,
Well, we are on the right hand side of the A to Z Challenge, and I am optimistic that we are going to finish well, aren't you? It is so very good for our brain cells to search for topics, because it stretches the imagination to do so. Of course, that is today's choice of topics for me.
Optimism is a wonderful characteristic to have, I believe. Sometimes it is good to be like the little engine that could.
My good friend, Ina Ray, who now is being treated for breast cancer, and I had a joke about "I've got it, I've got it, I don't got it." You see, we were working at a Pow-Wow in Knoxville with the East TN Indian League, and we had a big container of stuff that we had to carry. I was trying to carry it, and I was saying, "I've got it, I've got it....Oops, I don't got it," and laughing, because I had to let go of the box. Ms. Ina, keep on believing..."I can do it, I can!"...and know that I am praying for you...I love you, friend.
You see, it is a family characteristic in my family to be not only optimistic but obstinate (also called determined, or bull-headed), and we don't give up easily. I think maybe that came from my half-Cherokee grandmother, who, after losing her husband to pneumonia in Texas, came back to Tennessee with seven children to support and provide for.
She took in washing and ironing, she could not read and write, but she was a determined and strong lady. Each of her children, until the two youngest, quit school after finishing the fifth grade and went to work in the hosiery mill in Loudon, Tennessee. Even the two youngest went to work when they finished school. There were no slackers in that family. They brought their paychecks home and gave them to Grandma. Working together, they survived.
My mom was among those that quit school after finishing the fifth grade. She (along with my dad) raised six children who knew what is was like to keep on keeping on. I am the last surviving sibling, and I'm as stubborn as they come. (Just ask my kids. ha) My daughters know how to work, and have my same brand of optimism and obstinancy. We don't know the words, "I can't". Mom had an expression for that. (She had an expression for almost every situation, ha) She said, "I can't never did do anything, and never will."
Well, folks, that is it for today. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you my friends, and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, we are on the right hand side of the A to Z Challenge, and I am optimistic that we are going to finish well, aren't you? It is so very good for our brain cells to search for topics, because it stretches the imagination to do so. Of course, that is today's choice of topics for me.
Optimism is a wonderful characteristic to have, I believe. Sometimes it is good to be like the little engine that could.
My good friend, Ina Ray, who now is being treated for breast cancer, and I had a joke about "I've got it, I've got it, I don't got it." You see, we were working at a Pow-Wow in Knoxville with the East TN Indian League, and we had a big container of stuff that we had to carry. I was trying to carry it, and I was saying, "I've got it, I've got it....Oops, I don't got it," and laughing, because I had to let go of the box. Ms. Ina, keep on believing..."I can do it, I can!"...and know that I am praying for you...I love you, friend.
You see, it is a family characteristic in my family to be not only optimistic but obstinate (also called determined, or bull-headed), and we don't give up easily. I think maybe that came from my half-Cherokee grandmother, who, after losing her husband to pneumonia in Texas, came back to Tennessee with seven children to support and provide for.
She took in washing and ironing, she could not read and write, but she was a determined and strong lady. Each of her children, until the two youngest, quit school after finishing the fifth grade and went to work in the hosiery mill in Loudon, Tennessee. Even the two youngest went to work when they finished school. There were no slackers in that family. They brought their paychecks home and gave them to Grandma. Working together, they survived.
My mom was among those that quit school after finishing the fifth grade. She (along with my dad) raised six children who knew what is was like to keep on keeping on. I am the last surviving sibling, and I'm as stubborn as they come. (Just ask my kids. ha) My daughters know how to work, and have my same brand of optimism and obstinancy. We don't know the words, "I can't". Mom had an expression for that. (She had an expression for almost every situation, ha) She said, "I can't never did do anything, and never will."
Well, folks, that is it for today. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you my friends, and family. Bye for now. More later.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
New Adventures, New Beginnings and New Challenges
Hey, Y'all,
Well, today I am talking about New Stuff...specifically, New Adventures, New Beginnings and New Challenges, kind of keeping with our abc theme.
Thinking about coming from Tennessee to Texas kind of reminded me of my mom's family coming from Tennessee to Texas to make a new beginning back in 1908, a little more than a hundred years ago. She was only seven years old at the time, and her dad was looking for work. His brother had written to her dad telling him there was work to be had out here, so the whole family and extended family that was in Tennessee got together and had a picture made.
My mom is the one seated on the right of the picture, and her mom is the woman seated on the left with my Aunt Edith on her lap. There are five other children of hers and Grandpa's in the picture. They came out here to Lorena, Texas by train to work on the Westbrook's Ranch. My grandpa worked as a hand on the ranch, my grandma worked as a cook in the ranchhouse, and my mom and her siblings worked out in the fields, hoeing and picking cotton, and chopping out corn.
Mom was always full of ideas, and one day she got the idea that if they wanted to get out of work, they should rub poison ivy (she and her brothers, Arthur and Gene,) over their face and then they would break out and not have to chop out the corn. Ya' gotta remember, folks, she was only seven or eight and had no idea what a misery that could bring on. Well, her two brothers broke out in poison really bad, but it didn't affect her, so she wound up with having to do hers and their work. Anyway, that was one little sad adventure she regretted. Ha.
They had the challenge of adapting to a new area, just as I have had over the past few months. The man in the upper left of the picture is my grandpa, William Gaston Black, and standing next to him is my aunt that I wrote about the other day, the one we called "Ainty" or Aint Emmaline. We never pronounced Aunt as Ahnt, like a lot of people do. We are from Tennessee, you all. Ainty was the one who went to nurse people back to health, and one side of her mouth was twisted like she had something wrong with it. She also had a little finger on one hand that she could wiggle like it wasn't fastened on good or something.
Oh, my! There are all kinds of stories in my family's background that are simply fascinating. Anyway, they came to Texas when my mom was seven, and her dad died within two years of their coming here. They had a child who was born in Texas and died before Grandpa did. The child was responsible for my Grandpa becoming a believer in the Lord. It is told that when the little boy, Franklin, was dying, he looked up and pointed to heaven, and said, "Right there" as though he could see Jesus and heaven, then died. Mom told how Grandpa became a believer right then and there. She said that Ainty shouted and said, "Hallelujah" because Ainty had been praying for him to believe.
It was not very long before Grandpa became ill from pneumonia, from getting wet while working in the rain when he had the measles, and passed away. (Another story here, but will save it for later.) The family then had to pack up and move back to Tennessee, because without Grandpa, they could not stay on the ranch. They returned to Tennessee exactly a hundred years ago.
I am sure that not in their wildest dreams did they ever consider what the world would be like a hundred years from then.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Thinking about and writing about all this that happened to them makes me realize that the challenges I have had to face are next to nothing, because of all the help and encouragement I have had from family and so many new friends and those I already had. God is good, isn't He? He brought them through rough times, and He is bringing me through as well.
ADDENDUM: Believe it or not, I was going to write about my new adventures, beginnings and challenges, then after I started thinking, my whole ideas kind of went in a different direction...and I wound up not writing about my adventures, new beginnings and new challenges. Go figure! I'll save that for another day. Ha.
Well, today I am talking about New Stuff...specifically, New Adventures, New Beginnings and New Challenges, kind of keeping with our abc theme.
My mom is the one seated on the right of the picture, and her mom is the woman seated on the left with my Aunt Edith on her lap. There are five other children of hers and Grandpa's in the picture. They came out here to Lorena, Texas by train to work on the Westbrook's Ranch. My grandpa worked as a hand on the ranch, my grandma worked as a cook in the ranchhouse, and my mom and her siblings worked out in the fields, hoeing and picking cotton, and chopping out corn.
Mom was always full of ideas, and one day she got the idea that if they wanted to get out of work, they should rub poison ivy (she and her brothers, Arthur and Gene,) over their face and then they would break out and not have to chop out the corn. Ya' gotta remember, folks, she was only seven or eight and had no idea what a misery that could bring on. Well, her two brothers broke out in poison really bad, but it didn't affect her, so she wound up with having to do hers and their work. Anyway, that was one little sad adventure she regretted. Ha.
They had the challenge of adapting to a new area, just as I have had over the past few months. The man in the upper left of the picture is my grandpa, William Gaston Black, and standing next to him is my aunt that I wrote about the other day, the one we called "Ainty" or Aint Emmaline. We never pronounced Aunt as Ahnt, like a lot of people do. We are from Tennessee, you all. Ainty was the one who went to nurse people back to health, and one side of her mouth was twisted like she had something wrong with it. She also had a little finger on one hand that she could wiggle like it wasn't fastened on good or something.
Oh, my! There are all kinds of stories in my family's background that are simply fascinating. Anyway, they came to Texas when my mom was seven, and her dad died within two years of their coming here. They had a child who was born in Texas and died before Grandpa did. The child was responsible for my Grandpa becoming a believer in the Lord. It is told that when the little boy, Franklin, was dying, he looked up and pointed to heaven, and said, "Right there" as though he could see Jesus and heaven, then died. Mom told how Grandpa became a believer right then and there. She said that Ainty shouted and said, "Hallelujah" because Ainty had been praying for him to believe.
It was not very long before Grandpa became ill from pneumonia, from getting wet while working in the rain when he had the measles, and passed away. (Another story here, but will save it for later.) The family then had to pack up and move back to Tennessee, because without Grandpa, they could not stay on the ranch. They returned to Tennessee exactly a hundred years ago.
I am sure that not in their wildest dreams did they ever consider what the world would be like a hundred years from then.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Thinking about and writing about all this that happened to them makes me realize that the challenges I have had to face are next to nothing, because of all the help and encouragement I have had from family and so many new friends and those I already had. God is good, isn't He? He brought them through rough times, and He is bringing me through as well.
ADDENDUM: Believe it or not, I was going to write about my new adventures, beginnings and challenges, then after I started thinking, my whole ideas kind of went in a different direction...and I wound up not writing about my adventures, new beginnings and new challenges. Go figure! I'll save that for another day. Ha.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Milestones and Memories
Hey, Y'all,
Well, now, I'm about to wax philosophical on you, cause I'm going to talk about milestones and memories. You know, I was thinkin' the other day about how many "firsts" there are in each of our lives and the memories they evoke when we think about them. Of course, it is because we come into this world a new individual and there are so many things to learn because we never before experienced them.
The first breath we take
The first cry
The first laugh....well, you get the idea (although when we often think it is the first smile of our child, another adult says, "Oh, he (she) just has gas." ha ha.
The first steps
The first day to fall when taking tentative steps
The first day of kindergarten
The first spanking (that better take place before kindergarten or else teacher won't be so happy to see Junior) I remember the first time I saw Carol spank my oldest grandchild, I cried (same thing happened when I saw him spank my oldest great grand - they both needed it though) Yes, I believe in spanking.
Then there is one's first romantic kiss with someone of the opposite gender
The first time to make love
The first time to have a child
The first time an individual realizes he (she) is a sinner
The acceptance of Jesus as Savior (the most important milestone)
Marriage
Buying homes
Moves we make from one place to another
Learning skills
Losses of loved ones
A lot of the milestones that we have are not necessarily "firsts" but repeats, like bearing children.
You can probably think of a lot more that you have had, but the point I am trying to make here is that each person's milestones that make memories are different but have similarities because we are, after all, all human beings with our foibles, failings, and hopes. The news is made up of reporting of those foibles, failings, and hopes.
Just now, I saw where a man outside a store saw a woman coming out, put a knife to her throat and grabbed her purse. She held on to the purse and he dragged her fifty feet across the pavement and finally got the purse. She had lost her job three weeks ago. She demanded her keys back and he threw them at her and took off. He got away with her laptop, cell phone and 200 dollars she had saved up working three other jobs. She said she was so afraid but angry too. They are hoping to identify the man from the security tapes that caught the robbery. I am sure she won't be forgetting all that.
My blog is composed mostly of the milestones in my life, and the memories they have made. One reason I share them is so my family will have a record of them. What are some milestones you have had in your life?
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, now, I'm about to wax philosophical on you, cause I'm going to talk about milestones and memories. You know, I was thinkin' the other day about how many "firsts" there are in each of our lives and the memories they evoke when we think about them. Of course, it is because we come into this world a new individual and there are so many things to learn because we never before experienced them.
The first breath we take
The first cry
The first laugh....well, you get the idea (although when we often think it is the first smile of our child, another adult says, "Oh, he (she) just has gas." ha ha.
The first steps
The first day to fall when taking tentative steps
The first day of kindergarten
The first spanking (that better take place before kindergarten or else teacher won't be so happy to see Junior) I remember the first time I saw Carol spank my oldest grandchild, I cried (same thing happened when I saw him spank my oldest great grand - they both needed it though) Yes, I believe in spanking.
Then there is one's first romantic kiss with someone of the opposite gender
The first time to make love
The first time to have a child
The first time an individual realizes he (she) is a sinner
The acceptance of Jesus as Savior (the most important milestone)
Marriage
Buying homes
Moves we make from one place to another
Learning skills
Losses of loved ones
A lot of the milestones that we have are not necessarily "firsts" but repeats, like bearing children.
You can probably think of a lot more that you have had, but the point I am trying to make here is that each person's milestones that make memories are different but have similarities because we are, after all, all human beings with our foibles, failings, and hopes. The news is made up of reporting of those foibles, failings, and hopes.
Just now, I saw where a man outside a store saw a woman coming out, put a knife to her throat and grabbed her purse. She held on to the purse and he dragged her fifty feet across the pavement and finally got the purse. She had lost her job three weeks ago. She demanded her keys back and he threw them at her and took off. He got away with her laptop, cell phone and 200 dollars she had saved up working three other jobs. She said she was so afraid but angry too. They are hoping to identify the man from the security tapes that caught the robbery. I am sure she won't be forgetting all that.
My blog is composed mostly of the milestones in my life, and the memories they have made. One reason I share them is so my family will have a record of them. What are some milestones you have had in your life?
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Lunacy - Causing Loss of Life and Limb
Hey, Y'all,
Well, now, I am getting up on my soapbox, and hope I don't get dizzy and fall off. This morning, as I was lying in bed and watching the 5:00 news, I was again appalled by the violence that is taking place among young people who apparently have nothing to do but beat on each other with fists and clubs, and kick each other with violence. It speaks of lunacy and lack of any kind of empathy for others. A young man, only 17 years old, was being beaten and finally broke away from his attackers, only to get into a car, and driving away in haste, ran over a twelve year old innocent bystander, who died in the hospital later. The young man did not stop after running over the boy, but kept going. He was arrested later and charged for manslaughter. The whole thing was caught on video by a camera phone, probably belonging to another young person on the scene.
Folks, what is our country coming to??? It turned up on the local news here, because it happened in one of the suburbs of Dallas. But I know it happens all over our country. I just don't understand it. Are our children becoming desensitized to feelings of others? Why? It is like Mob Mentality when a bunch of kids or even adults can gang up on a peer and try to kill them.
I know that many of our young people would never dream of doing such a thing. It horrifies us to think that it could happen so much lately at schools and on the playgrounds. So much of the beatings have wound up on UTube, recorded on camera phones and posted. What has America come to? It is lunacy.
Okay, off the soapbox now. I thank God for the kids that have not taken that path, and for the parents that have raised children in the fear of the Lord, and respect for others.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today, after telling you about my grandson, Daniel J. Bennett, who has written a book, published by Kregel Publications. The book is called "A Passion for the Fatherless" about adoption, and can be purchased at Amazon and is also available on electronic books. We are so pleased about his dedication to promote adopting and caring for fatherless children. I am so pleased with all my grandchildren. Carol and Teresa and their spouses have done wonderful jobs in raising them. (Grandparents are allowed to brag, you know. It is a part of our right)
Well, that is about it for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, now, I am getting up on my soapbox, and hope I don't get dizzy and fall off. This morning, as I was lying in bed and watching the 5:00 news, I was again appalled by the violence that is taking place among young people who apparently have nothing to do but beat on each other with fists and clubs, and kick each other with violence. It speaks of lunacy and lack of any kind of empathy for others. A young man, only 17 years old, was being beaten and finally broke away from his attackers, only to get into a car, and driving away in haste, ran over a twelve year old innocent bystander, who died in the hospital later. The young man did not stop after running over the boy, but kept going. He was arrested later and charged for manslaughter. The whole thing was caught on video by a camera phone, probably belonging to another young person on the scene.
Folks, what is our country coming to??? It turned up on the local news here, because it happened in one of the suburbs of Dallas. But I know it happens all over our country. I just don't understand it. Are our children becoming desensitized to feelings of others? Why? It is like Mob Mentality when a bunch of kids or even adults can gang up on a peer and try to kill them.
I know that many of our young people would never dream of doing such a thing. It horrifies us to think that it could happen so much lately at schools and on the playgrounds. So much of the beatings have wound up on UTube, recorded on camera phones and posted. What has America come to? It is lunacy.
Okay, off the soapbox now. I thank God for the kids that have not taken that path, and for the parents that have raised children in the fear of the Lord, and respect for others.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today, after telling you about my grandson, Daniel J. Bennett, who has written a book, published by Kregel Publications. The book is called "A Passion for the Fatherless" about adoption, and can be purchased at Amazon and is also available on electronic books. We are so pleased about his dedication to promote adopting and caring for fatherless children. I am so pleased with all my grandchildren. Carol and Teresa and their spouses have done wonderful jobs in raising them. (Grandparents are allowed to brag, you know. It is a part of our right)
Well, that is about it for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
My First Kodak
Hey, Y'all,
I awakened early this morning and no doubt will try to go back to bed in a few minutes, if only for about two hours or less. I decided to see if I couldn't think of something to write about. "K" is a somewhat difficult letter to find something a little out of the ordinary to write about. So, I cheated a little and just went to the Yahoo browser and typed in a ka, got nothing I wanted to use, then a ki, nothing...., then a ko, and one of the words that came up in the suggestions was Kodak. I thought, "ah ha" and remembered my old Brownie Kodak. I think I must have gotten it for my 18th birthday, or something, because I know I used it when I went to YWA Camp in North Carolina.
Do you remember the Brownie cameras? They were very simple box type cameras, with a flash attachment for extra light when it was needed, and had flash bulbs that were put into the attachment. There was a little release button on the top of the attachment for flipping out the used bulb.
The film was loaded manually into the camera in the dark, and one end of the film was attached to one of the spools inside the box, and stretched around and secured in its proper slot. When you were reasonably sure that you had inserted the film properly, you put the outer case back in place and secured it with a little latch. Then you wound the knob that the spool was attached to, until you saw the number 1 in the little window, and you were ready to take photos with it.
When you had taken the roll full of pictures (I think they held 20- I'm not sure of the number - you have to realize how long it has been), you would make sure the film was wound as far as it would go, and then remove the outer case and then the little spool of film. The little spool would be put into a canister and taken to a place to be developed. One would have to wait at least two weeks to get the finished product back.
The finished product was returned to you in a booklet form, and the photos were about 3x3 inches with deckled edges.
My goodness, what a difference to the cameras of today, but they certainly preserved a lot of memories for us, didn't they?
Note: About my two wonderful daughters, Carol and Teresa.
As many of my faithful followers know, Teresa has been through Chemo and Radiation therapy for breast cancer very recently, and as of yesterday she was pronounced "In Remission" by her doctor. Hallelujah, and Praise the Lord! Many of you have been praying for her. She kept a blog of her journey, and yesterday wrote what she hopes will be the last entry in it. If you are interested in reading it, I would recommend it. It is very touching and well written. You can find the link to it, on this page, under "Pickin' up the Pieces" under "Other Interesting Blogs".
My daughter, Carol, was writing a blog long before I was, and she, too, along with Teresa, writes beautifully. She decided late to enter the A to Z challenge, but is not listed with any of the leaders. If you would like to read her blog, it has a link also on my page and is listed as http://carolgbennett.blogspot.com. I recommend it as well. You will get to know our families even better by reading these two blogs.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later. Gotta go catch a few more "zzzzzzz's".
I awakened early this morning and no doubt will try to go back to bed in a few minutes, if only for about two hours or less. I decided to see if I couldn't think of something to write about. "K" is a somewhat difficult letter to find something a little out of the ordinary to write about. So, I cheated a little and just went to the Yahoo browser and typed in a ka, got nothing I wanted to use, then a ki, nothing...., then a ko, and one of the words that came up in the suggestions was Kodak. I thought, "ah ha" and remembered my old Brownie Kodak. I think I must have gotten it for my 18th birthday, or something, because I know I used it when I went to YWA Camp in North Carolina.
Do you remember the Brownie cameras? They were very simple box type cameras, with a flash attachment for extra light when it was needed, and had flash bulbs that were put into the attachment. There was a little release button on the top of the attachment for flipping out the used bulb.
The film was loaded manually into the camera in the dark, and one end of the film was attached to one of the spools inside the box, and stretched around and secured in its proper slot. When you were reasonably sure that you had inserted the film properly, you put the outer case back in place and secured it with a little latch. Then you wound the knob that the spool was attached to, until you saw the number 1 in the little window, and you were ready to take photos with it.
When you had taken the roll full of pictures (I think they held 20- I'm not sure of the number - you have to realize how long it has been), you would make sure the film was wound as far as it would go, and then remove the outer case and then the little spool of film. The little spool would be put into a canister and taken to a place to be developed. One would have to wait at least two weeks to get the finished product back.
The finished product was returned to you in a booklet form, and the photos were about 3x3 inches with deckled edges.
My goodness, what a difference to the cameras of today, but they certainly preserved a lot of memories for us, didn't they?
Note: About my two wonderful daughters, Carol and Teresa.
As many of my faithful followers know, Teresa has been through Chemo and Radiation therapy for breast cancer very recently, and as of yesterday she was pronounced "In Remission" by her doctor. Hallelujah, and Praise the Lord! Many of you have been praying for her. She kept a blog of her journey, and yesterday wrote what she hopes will be the last entry in it. If you are interested in reading it, I would recommend it. It is very touching and well written. You can find the link to it, on this page, under "Pickin' up the Pieces" under "Other Interesting Blogs".
My daughter, Carol, was writing a blog long before I was, and she, too, along with Teresa, writes beautifully. She decided late to enter the A to Z challenge, but is not listed with any of the leaders. If you would like to read her blog, it has a link also on my page and is listed as http://carolgbennett.blogspot.com. I recommend it as well. You will get to know our families even better by reading these two blogs.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later. Gotta go catch a few more "zzzzzzz's".
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Journey of a Lifetime
Hey, Y'all,
I had a difficult time choosing a "J" subject, but decided to combine a couple of them. In 1947, my family took a short journey that changed our lives forever. We moved twenty five miles from one of the largest cities in the state of Tennessee to one of the neighboring counties, to a farm of seventy five acres. It changed my dad's life in the fact that he had not farmed since before he and mom were married. He was 22 years old when they were married, and 51 years old when we moved to New Market on the farm. He was kind of new at farming and got a lot of help from our neighbor who lived down the road from us. They became great friends.
My mom was only 17 when they married, and she was 46 when we moved to the farm. However, she continued to stay in Knoxville during the week, living in a one room apartment belonging to one of Dad's sisters,and work at the hosiery mill and came home to the farm on the weekends, stopping at the store and bringing groceries home, riding out in the delivery truck. A black man, called Chick, drove the delivery truck and delivered mom and the groceries. Mom rode the Trailways bus from Knoxville and when she got off the bus at New Market, she would walk over to the grocery store, and then ride out to the house. On Sunday afternoons, she would walk back to New Market and catch the bus to Knoxville. It was a two mile walk. We had no car or mode of transportation except for Shank's Mare (walking). She finally retired after fifteen years of doing that, her health broken down.
My sister's life was changed merely by the fact that she could no longer see friends she had made in Knoxville, and had to wash clothes by scrub board (no electricity for two years, and water was gotten by pumping it from a cistern on the back porch), plus she had to help dad with so many outside jobs. She worked just like a man, and never married.
John and I changed schools and had to make new friends (many of the kids considered us to be "city kids") and we also had to help in the farming in the summer time.
My brother, Hugh, who was near graduating from high school, finished up his final half year in Knoxville, and then lived with us for a short time before he was drafted into the U.S. Army (which would have happened even if we had not moved to the farm).
Now, I was going to write about jam and jelly (2 more good "J" words) but I'll save that one for another time.
UPDATE: My grandson, Matthew came over yesterday and installed my new overhead light with fan in the kitchen which he and his brothers and sister (and their respective spouses) so generously gave me for Christmas. So now, I have a ceiling fan to keep me cool in the summertime. Thank you, Matt! Also he fixed the alarm thingy that has been irritating the hoooey out of me, by disconnecting the wire that gave it power. So now, hopefully that irritant is taken care of. I so much appreciate my family!
Well, this is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later and on to "K" tomorrow.
I had a difficult time choosing a "J" subject, but decided to combine a couple of them. In 1947, my family took a short journey that changed our lives forever. We moved twenty five miles from one of the largest cities in the state of Tennessee to one of the neighboring counties, to a farm of seventy five acres. It changed my dad's life in the fact that he had not farmed since before he and mom were married. He was 22 years old when they were married, and 51 years old when we moved to New Market on the farm. He was kind of new at farming and got a lot of help from our neighbor who lived down the road from us. They became great friends.
My mom was only 17 when they married, and she was 46 when we moved to the farm. However, she continued to stay in Knoxville during the week, living in a one room apartment belonging to one of Dad's sisters,and work at the hosiery mill and came home to the farm on the weekends, stopping at the store and bringing groceries home, riding out in the delivery truck. A black man, called Chick, drove the delivery truck and delivered mom and the groceries. Mom rode the Trailways bus from Knoxville and when she got off the bus at New Market, she would walk over to the grocery store, and then ride out to the house. On Sunday afternoons, she would walk back to New Market and catch the bus to Knoxville. It was a two mile walk. We had no car or mode of transportation except for Shank's Mare (walking). She finally retired after fifteen years of doing that, her health broken down.
My sister's life was changed merely by the fact that she could no longer see friends she had made in Knoxville, and had to wash clothes by scrub board (no electricity for two years, and water was gotten by pumping it from a cistern on the back porch), plus she had to help dad with so many outside jobs. She worked just like a man, and never married.
John and I changed schools and had to make new friends (many of the kids considered us to be "city kids") and we also had to help in the farming in the summer time.
My brother, Hugh, who was near graduating from high school, finished up his final half year in Knoxville, and then lived with us for a short time before he was drafted into the U.S. Army (which would have happened even if we had not moved to the farm).
Now, I was going to write about jam and jelly (2 more good "J" words) but I'll save that one for another time.
UPDATE: My grandson, Matthew came over yesterday and installed my new overhead light with fan in the kitchen which he and his brothers and sister (and their respective spouses) so generously gave me for Christmas. So now, I have a ceiling fan to keep me cool in the summertime. Thank you, Matt! Also he fixed the alarm thingy that has been irritating the hoooey out of me, by disconnecting the wire that gave it power. So now, hopefully that irritant is taken care of. I so much appreciate my family!
Well, this is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later and on to "K" tomorrow.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Itches I Have Known
Hey, Y'all,
Now, I admit this may be a kind of off-the-wall post, but that is the kind I love to do. The first itching I can remember is when I had the Chicken Pox and I must have been around three or four years old. I still have a scar on one of my fingers near the place it joins my hand. I remember that my Mom would tell me to stop scratching or it would leave a scar. Ha...I had no idea at that age what a scar was, but boy! Do I ever now!!!
Another itching was from mosquitoes which has happened many times in my life, and yours too, most likely. Then there is the itching one has from dry skin, and (ladies) from when you have been wearing a tight undergarment and remove it, and you kind of scratch your tummy where it has been so confining. Ahh! That feels so great!
My back often itches where I can't reach it, and I used to ask my Sweetie Pie to scratch it for me. He was always afraid he would hurt me because I want him to really SCRATCH my back. I just had to back up against the door jamb and scratch my back that way. Ha!
Incisions from surgery itch when healing, and that is a bothersome thing (believe me, I have had plenty of those). Then there is the itching of Tinea Pedis (more commonly known as Athlete's Foot). Oh, Wow! Nothing like it when you are trying to sleep at night and unconsciously awaken rubbing one foot with the other one.
Have you ever been watching someone do something and your fingers just itch to get into it and help them? You say, "I'm just itchin' to help you with that" when actually you want to show them how to do it. Ha.
Last, but not least, I'm winding up with what I began this post. A couple of months ago, I had a case of the Shingles to break out on my neck and scalp and ear. It is caused by a viral dormant Chicken Pox germ; and there you have it! Itches I have known and probably most of you all as well.
NOTE: Yesterday was my Grandson, Andrew's, thirtieth birthday, and we celebrated with a pizza party at his home. Andrew and wife, Julia, have two adorable (of course, but really do) little girls. Here is a photo of some of us at the table with Andrew ready to blow out the candles on his Pizza Cake.
Well, that is about it for today and my "I" post. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Now, I admit this may be a kind of off-the-wall post, but that is the kind I love to do. The first itching I can remember is when I had the Chicken Pox and I must have been around three or four years old. I still have a scar on one of my fingers near the place it joins my hand. I remember that my Mom would tell me to stop scratching or it would leave a scar. Ha...I had no idea at that age what a scar was, but boy! Do I ever now!!!
Another itching was from mosquitoes which has happened many times in my life, and yours too, most likely. Then there is the itching one has from dry skin, and (ladies) from when you have been wearing a tight undergarment and remove it, and you kind of scratch your tummy where it has been so confining. Ahh! That feels so great!
My back often itches where I can't reach it, and I used to ask my Sweetie Pie to scratch it for me. He was always afraid he would hurt me because I want him to really SCRATCH my back. I just had to back up against the door jamb and scratch my back that way. Ha!
Incisions from surgery itch when healing, and that is a bothersome thing (believe me, I have had plenty of those). Then there is the itching of Tinea Pedis (more commonly known as Athlete's Foot). Oh, Wow! Nothing like it when you are trying to sleep at night and unconsciously awaken rubbing one foot with the other one.
Have you ever been watching someone do something and your fingers just itch to get into it and help them? You say, "I'm just itchin' to help you with that" when actually you want to show them how to do it. Ha.
Last, but not least, I'm winding up with what I began this post. A couple of months ago, I had a case of the Shingles to break out on my neck and scalp and ear. It is caused by a viral dormant Chicken Pox germ; and there you have it! Itches I have known and probably most of you all as well.
Well, that is about it for today and my "I" post. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Houses vs. Homes
Hey, Y'all,
Well, I don't know how many of you, my fellow bloggers will be using one of these words for your "H" word, but probably quite a few. I always try to come up with a unique one, but today I am going to use house and home.
In my lifetime, I have lived in several houses, and they have always become a home. I believe that what makes a house to be homelike is the residents' adaptability and willingness to make it a home, don't you? If there is discontent and disharmony within the walls, it's not a home, it's a house (or it could be an apartment). Just less than a year ago, I moved into a house that has become a home, and it has taken and is still taking adjustments, but I am happy here.
There is no discontent here, and there is no one here to be disharmonious with, except myself, and I'm almost always a happy individual. There was some disharmony this morning at four a.m. when I was awakened by the insistent chirping of a battery alarm on the wall outside my room. It seemed to be connected to the fire alarm near my garage door. I pressed on the button on the fire alarm where Carol had told me to if it ever started making sounds. Well, don't you know, it started making a loud klaxon sound that was ear piercing and I kept pushing buttons till it finally stopped. If we had been near the cemetery it probably would have wakened the dead. (I'll bet it woke up a few neighbors. ha)
Anyway, that sucker is going to have to have some disconnecting done or someone is going to have to come up with a solution to that problem. Fer shure, and I ain't jokin', folks!
It's all about attitude, when it comes to having a home. And I reckon maybe all of you know that, so I'm not just whistlin' Dixie here. Now, I reckon maybe, I'll just head to bed and see if I can grab a few more "Zees". It is still only 5 a.m. Goodnight, y'all. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. More later. Bye now.
Well, I don't know how many of you, my fellow bloggers will be using one of these words for your "H" word, but probably quite a few. I always try to come up with a unique one, but today I am going to use house and home.
In my lifetime, I have lived in several houses, and they have always become a home. I believe that what makes a house to be homelike is the residents' adaptability and willingness to make it a home, don't you? If there is discontent and disharmony within the walls, it's not a home, it's a house (or it could be an apartment). Just less than a year ago, I moved into a house that has become a home, and it has taken and is still taking adjustments, but I am happy here.
There is no discontent here, and there is no one here to be disharmonious with, except myself, and I'm almost always a happy individual. There was some disharmony this morning at four a.m. when I was awakened by the insistent chirping of a battery alarm on the wall outside my room. It seemed to be connected to the fire alarm near my garage door. I pressed on the button on the fire alarm where Carol had told me to if it ever started making sounds. Well, don't you know, it started making a loud klaxon sound that was ear piercing and I kept pushing buttons till it finally stopped. If we had been near the cemetery it probably would have wakened the dead. (I'll bet it woke up a few neighbors. ha)
Anyway, that sucker is going to have to have some disconnecting done or someone is going to have to come up with a solution to that problem. Fer shure, and I ain't jokin', folks!
It's all about attitude, when it comes to having a home. And I reckon maybe all of you know that, so I'm not just whistlin' Dixie here. Now, I reckon maybe, I'll just head to bed and see if I can grab a few more "Zees". It is still only 5 a.m. Goodnight, y'all. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for now. More later. Bye now.
Friday, April 8, 2011
G-Rated
Hey, Y'all,
Well, Good Gravy! We're up to G and there are a whole bunch of great G-words, and instead of doing just one, I am going to do a few of them. Gravy is one of them and if you're going to have gravy, better make it good.
Now, my Mom could make some of the best gravy a person ever put in their hungry mouth. She began with cooking some pork sausage, and crumbling some of it up in the old iron skillet then removing the rest of it. Then, she added enough flour to make the gravy with, and she browned that flour, stirring all the time. After it was the perfect shade of brown, she added a bowl of milk, being careful not to scald her hand as she poured, still stirring with the right hand. When the mixture was the right thickness (this is called thickened gravy - we call it country gravy these days), she poured it up into the bowl that had contained the milk. Then she opened the oven door and pulled out the "cat-head" biscuits. We sat down at the table and had fried eggs, sausage, gravy and biscuits, along with cups of coffee. Oh, Man! That was pure heaven! (And Good Gravy! it was good!) Good Gravy is also an expression of surprise, horror, or delight. Take your pick.
Gallopin' Pony is another "G" expression. When I was a girl (whoa! that was a long time ago) and was concerned with how I looked to go somewhere special, my mom would look at me primping in the mirror and I was thinking how cute I wanted to look. Then she would say, "It doesn't matter how much you primp, nobody can tell the difference on a gallopin' pony." She sure knew how to take the wind out of my sails. Ha.
Garbage...I thought of that one last night. This morning is trash pick up day and I always just think of it right before I'm ready to drag off to bed, and I think "ARRGH! Gotta collect the trash through the house and take it outside to be picked up. Tomorrow is trash day!" So through the house I went emptying wastebaskets and adding the stuff to the bigger trash bag in the kitchen. I slipped my crocs back on and carried the bag out to the curb to be picked up this morning. It made me remember how Dubby used to go through the house helping me to collect the trash to be carried off to the dumpsters out on Quarry Road in New Market. When he could no longer drive, he helped me gather it up so I could take it out there, and he would go with me as long as he could, so he could toss it into the dumpsters. Then when he could no longer go with me, I did it alone.
The last G word is Good-un, which is used to describe a person or thing. We usually say, "Now, he's a good-un all right!" or we can say, "That's a good-un" meaning either a joke someone relates, or a trick someone has played. As far as I'm concerned, all of you are "good-uns". Thanks for stopping by to visit me. I am going by the list that Alex Cavanaugh has posted, trying to visit as many as I can, not always leaving a note, but doing the best I can.
Just a word about the church I visited on Sunday....I am planning on joining it, and I have already joined the church choir. When Dubby began showing signs of dementia that would prevent my leaving him alone on Wednesday evening to practice in the church choir back home, I gave it up and did not regret doing so for his sake. Now I am blessed to be able to sing in the choir once again.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, Good Gravy! We're up to G and there are a whole bunch of great G-words, and instead of doing just one, I am going to do a few of them. Gravy is one of them and if you're going to have gravy, better make it good.
Now, my Mom could make some of the best gravy a person ever put in their hungry mouth. She began with cooking some pork sausage, and crumbling some of it up in the old iron skillet then removing the rest of it. Then, she added enough flour to make the gravy with, and she browned that flour, stirring all the time. After it was the perfect shade of brown, she added a bowl of milk, being careful not to scald her hand as she poured, still stirring with the right hand. When the mixture was the right thickness (this is called thickened gravy - we call it country gravy these days), she poured it up into the bowl that had contained the milk. Then she opened the oven door and pulled out the "cat-head" biscuits. We sat down at the table and had fried eggs, sausage, gravy and biscuits, along with cups of coffee. Oh, Man! That was pure heaven! (And Good Gravy! it was good!) Good Gravy is also an expression of surprise, horror, or delight. Take your pick.
Gallopin' Pony is another "G" expression. When I was a girl (whoa! that was a long time ago) and was concerned with how I looked to go somewhere special, my mom would look at me primping in the mirror and I was thinking how cute I wanted to look. Then she would say, "It doesn't matter how much you primp, nobody can tell the difference on a gallopin' pony." She sure knew how to take the wind out of my sails. Ha.
Garbage...I thought of that one last night. This morning is trash pick up day and I always just think of it right before I'm ready to drag off to bed, and I think "ARRGH! Gotta collect the trash through the house and take it outside to be picked up. Tomorrow is trash day!" So through the house I went emptying wastebaskets and adding the stuff to the bigger trash bag in the kitchen. I slipped my crocs back on and carried the bag out to the curb to be picked up this morning. It made me remember how Dubby used to go through the house helping me to collect the trash to be carried off to the dumpsters out on Quarry Road in New Market. When he could no longer drive, he helped me gather it up so I could take it out there, and he would go with me as long as he could, so he could toss it into the dumpsters. Then when he could no longer go with me, I did it alone.
The last G word is Good-un, which is used to describe a person or thing. We usually say, "Now, he's a good-un all right!" or we can say, "That's a good-un" meaning either a joke someone relates, or a trick someone has played. As far as I'm concerned, all of you are "good-uns". Thanks for stopping by to visit me. I am going by the list that Alex Cavanaugh has posted, trying to visit as many as I can, not always leaving a note, but doing the best I can.
Just a word about the church I visited on Sunday....I am planning on joining it, and I have already joined the church choir. When Dubby began showing signs of dementia that would prevent my leaving him alone on Wednesday evening to practice in the church choir back home, I gave it up and did not regret doing so for his sake. Now I am blessed to be able to sing in the choir once again.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Finaglin'
Hey, Y'all,
Right now, you may be asking, (or maybe not, ha) "What in the heck is finaglin' (fuh-nay-glen)"? Well, now, a finagler is one of these people who can work people around to give them what he wants, without that person realizing that he has been "worked" or finagled. One definition is that a finagler is one who uses trickery to deceive another to cheat him out of something. The question for today is: are you a finagler? Do you really work at it? Are you good at it?
Whether you realize it or not, we begin as children learning to finagle, when we watch others figure out how to get what they want. Another title that we give a finagler is "con artist". I've seen kids con their parents to get something that they want. It is one of those traits that are glorified by kids on sit coms. It irritates the hooey out of me, to see them behave in such a manner, and to know that so many children watching them are influenced.
Unfortunately, it is a part of our human nature to try to con or finagle people when we want something from them, isn't it? We try persuading by words, or bartering, to influence someone else to give us willingly something we want that they possess. Have you ever observed that? Or maybe done that? I am pretty sure that I have.
Well, that is it for today. I never know where I am going for sure with a subject when I begin it. I just kind of let the ideas and the words flow. I was going to write about Fun, but I thought this subject would be more unique. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Welcome to all my new friends as well. Thank you all for stopping by, and I hope you'll be back. Bye for now. More later.
Right now, you may be asking, (or maybe not, ha) "What in the heck is finaglin' (fuh-nay-glen)"? Well, now, a finagler is one of these people who can work people around to give them what he wants, without that person realizing that he has been "worked" or finagled. One definition is that a finagler is one who uses trickery to deceive another to cheat him out of something. The question for today is: are you a finagler? Do you really work at it? Are you good at it?
Whether you realize it or not, we begin as children learning to finagle, when we watch others figure out how to get what they want. Another title that we give a finagler is "con artist". I've seen kids con their parents to get something that they want. It is one of those traits that are glorified by kids on sit coms. It irritates the hooey out of me, to see them behave in such a manner, and to know that so many children watching them are influenced.
Unfortunately, it is a part of our human nature to try to con or finagle people when we want something from them, isn't it? We try persuading by words, or bartering, to influence someone else to give us willingly something we want that they possess. Have you ever observed that? Or maybe done that? I am pretty sure that I have.
Well, that is it for today. I never know where I am going for sure with a subject when I begin it. I just kind of let the ideas and the words flow. I was going to write about Fun, but I thought this subject would be more unique. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Welcome to all my new friends as well. Thank you all for stopping by, and I hope you'll be back. Bye for now. More later.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Enough and Extra
Hey, Y'all,
When is the difference between enough and extra? Sometimes, the enough never seems to happen, thus never becoming extra. Does that make sense to you? Growing up with little money, and all of us being born in the 20's and 30's depression era, there often was not enough for any of us to eat well, or to be physically satisfied with it. We were no different than millions of people at that time, and I see the same thing happening in today's economy. What does that do to a person's inner self? (An age-old question, I am sure, and one that I am not goint to try to answer)
One thing that we did have though, and we shared, was caring for others. We had love for each other, and respect, we grew in our appreciation of the kindness of others to us, as well. People were kind (mostly) and we learned the difference between enough and extra. We learned that no matter how little or how much we had of anything, we shared and so we had extra even when we didn't.
I love to do for other people. As I stated in earlier postings, my mom "took in" her sisters and brothers, when they were down on their luck, even when we had little to nothing. She had an aunt that we called "Ainty" (Auntie with a classy pronunciation to those of you who pronounce the "u") who would come to "stay" with us sometimes when she was out of work. Ainty was a nurse who took care of people and she had a little black doctor's bag that she carried with her.
Any of my brothers or sister would do anything they could to help someone who needed it, because we grew up that way, and genuinely cared for others. With us, we considered enough to be extra when we needed to share. There were several times when we had nothing to eat in the house (back in the mid 1930's. I remember one time when I was about three years old, we lived across from a lady who ran a restaurant, and she gave us a bowl of lima beans and pan of cornbread, and oh, that smelled and tasted so good. (I can't stand lima beans to this day, but they were good then).
We learned about sharing when other people shared with us, and knew how wonderful it feels to be provided with food when you are hungry. I love to feed others and have them sit at my table and enjoy good food and fellowship. In my home, there is always enough and extra, just like when I was growing up. I love to share.
Well, that is it for today. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
When is the difference between enough and extra? Sometimes, the enough never seems to happen, thus never becoming extra. Does that make sense to you? Growing up with little money, and all of us being born in the 20's and 30's depression era, there often was not enough for any of us to eat well, or to be physically satisfied with it. We were no different than millions of people at that time, and I see the same thing happening in today's economy. What does that do to a person's inner self? (An age-old question, I am sure, and one that I am not goint to try to answer)
One thing that we did have though, and we shared, was caring for others. We had love for each other, and respect, we grew in our appreciation of the kindness of others to us, as well. People were kind (mostly) and we learned the difference between enough and extra. We learned that no matter how little or how much we had of anything, we shared and so we had extra even when we didn't.
I love to do for other people. As I stated in earlier postings, my mom "took in" her sisters and brothers, when they were down on their luck, even when we had little to nothing. She had an aunt that we called "Ainty" (Auntie with a classy pronunciation to those of you who pronounce the "u") who would come to "stay" with us sometimes when she was out of work. Ainty was a nurse who took care of people and she had a little black doctor's bag that she carried with her.
Any of my brothers or sister would do anything they could to help someone who needed it, because we grew up that way, and genuinely cared for others. With us, we considered enough to be extra when we needed to share. There were several times when we had nothing to eat in the house (back in the mid 1930's. I remember one time when I was about three years old, we lived across from a lady who ran a restaurant, and she gave us a bowl of lima beans and pan of cornbread, and oh, that smelled and tasted so good. (I can't stand lima beans to this day, but they were good then).
We learned about sharing when other people shared with us, and knew how wonderful it feels to be provided with food when you are hungry. I love to feed others and have them sit at my table and enjoy good food and fellowship. In my home, there is always enough and extra, just like when I was growing up. I love to share.
Well, that is it for today. This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. More later. Bye for now.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Doctor, Anyone?
Hey, Y'all,
Well, now, here is a question for you....do you realize that we are pronounced living by a doctor when we are born, and must be legally pronounced dead by a doctor for the death certificate to be valid? When we, as children, show signs of serious illness, Mama takes us to see...the doctor. As we grow older and begin to care for ourselves, the doctor continues in his (uh, her, sorry, didn't mean to be sexist here) importance to our well-being. Wonder if that is why they command such salaries? Must be. (But that is beside the point and not really intended in my soliloquy.)
I was going to tell some doctor stories that I know, and I will just a few, but please know that I have a lot more of them than I can relate today (trying to keep it short enough to be reasonably read in our present Challenge).
This one, I will tell, though. Each of my four brothers and one sister and myself were born at home. Back in the 1920's and 1930's when we showed our little faces for the first time in this world, very few women went to the hospital to bear their children. That is, those who were struggling just to make a living, as my parents were, did not. Each of my brothers and my sister, and I, were good-sized babies, the smallest being around 9 pounds and each successive one being larger. The doctor, upon delivering me (the fifth one), pronounced me as being 14 pounds, and then nearly three years later, my youngest brother, John, as weighing 17 pounds. He had delivered numerous babies and knew weights the way a butcher who works in a meat market would.
Now, when my brother, John, was born, my mother was torn internally, and the doctor pronounced that there was no need to do any stitching because she was going to die, anyway. Well, my mother was made of stronger stuff than the doctor knew, and lived another 36 years and worked in a hosiery mill, standing up, operating three machines for 26 of them.
One of my favorite television shows is "House" which, as most of you know, is about an eccentric doctor who is a genius at determining the cause of illnesses, but is a disaster when it comes to personal relationships. There are all kinds of doctors, and like most people I have had some really great experiences with them, as well as some horrible ones as well. More I will save for another day. Thanks for listening.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Please feel free to share any experiences you might have had. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
Well, now, here is a question for you....do you realize that we are pronounced living by a doctor when we are born, and must be legally pronounced dead by a doctor for the death certificate to be valid? When we, as children, show signs of serious illness, Mama takes us to see...the doctor. As we grow older and begin to care for ourselves, the doctor continues in his (uh, her, sorry, didn't mean to be sexist here) importance to our well-being. Wonder if that is why they command such salaries? Must be. (But that is beside the point and not really intended in my soliloquy.)
I was going to tell some doctor stories that I know, and I will just a few, but please know that I have a lot more of them than I can relate today (trying to keep it short enough to be reasonably read in our present Challenge).
This one, I will tell, though. Each of my four brothers and one sister and myself were born at home. Back in the 1920's and 1930's when we showed our little faces for the first time in this world, very few women went to the hospital to bear their children. That is, those who were struggling just to make a living, as my parents were, did not. Each of my brothers and my sister, and I, were good-sized babies, the smallest being around 9 pounds and each successive one being larger. The doctor, upon delivering me (the fifth one), pronounced me as being 14 pounds, and then nearly three years later, my youngest brother, John, as weighing 17 pounds. He had delivered numerous babies and knew weights the way a butcher who works in a meat market would.
Now, when my brother, John, was born, my mother was torn internally, and the doctor pronounced that there was no need to do any stitching because she was going to die, anyway. Well, my mother was made of stronger stuff than the doctor knew, and lived another 36 years and worked in a hosiery mill, standing up, operating three machines for 26 of them.
One of my favorite television shows is "House" which, as most of you know, is about an eccentric doctor who is a genius at determining the cause of illnesses, but is a disaster when it comes to personal relationships. There are all kinds of doctors, and like most people I have had some really great experiences with them, as well as some horrible ones as well. More I will save for another day. Thanks for listening.
This is Blabbin' Grammy signing off for today. Please feel free to share any experiences you might have had. Much love to each of you, my friends and family. Bye for now. More later.
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