Cotton Chopping & Sleeping Babies..........

Hello, all. It's another beautiful day here in Northeast Arkansas. Sparkling clear blue skies, almost the same color as the lovely morning glory blossom there to the left, and 70 degrees. Morning glories grow wild here, and though some of the wild ones are beautiful, they are considered an invasive weed, especially in the cotton and soybean fields. If you've never tried to chop them out of a cotton patch or garden, you truly don't know what you've been missing. You earn your money chopping cotton, especially if Johnson grass, cockleburrs, cow itch vine (it's called by the fancy name, "Trumpet Vine" in some nursery catalogs) or careless weed is involved. That's green cockleburrs to the left, under the morning glory, and a dry cockleburr under the green one. They stick to your socks and clothes, and in your feet if you step on them barefooted, too. Careless weed, top right, is called that for good reason, too. It has stickers where the leaves and stems join onto the main stem. Cow itch, or trumpet vine, the orange flowered vine, middle right, and Johnson grass, next picture under the cow itch vine, have rhyzomes that run under ground for a long way out from the main plant. They sprout a new plant at every segment if they're not dug up. On top of that, if left alone, they will sprout on top of the ground and put down new roots, too. Now, imagine that it's a bright, sunny 105 degrees in the shade, (and there's not any shade in a cotton field!!) there's not a breath of air stirring, and you are literally chopping and digging these WEEDS out of the ground, while wishing for a cold drink and a cloud to pass over for even just a moment's relief from the HEAT! Sound like fun to anyone? Anyone? No? Well, I got paid $2.00 an hour the first 2 years I chopped cotton. I was up to $3.00 an hour in 1982, the last year I chopped, and thought I was making good money at the time. Now imagine that your family farmed, and you had to get up every morning at 5 am, be in the field by 6, and chop cotton or pick it until dark-thirty. And the only pay you got for it was room and board, because it took all your Daddy could scrape together to keep everybody fed and clothed. Every once in a while, some kids got a little spending money on Saturday afternoon to go to "town", and maybe see a movie. I had a choice, but a lot of kids from my parent's generation and before didn't get to choose. Chopping and picking cotton is hard work when you're getting paid for it. I can't imagine having to work in the fields. There are very few cotton choppers around here these days, and nobody picks by hand anymore. My Mama and Daddy both picked and chopped, Mama more than Daddy. It was hard work, and a hard life, but I wonder if people are any better off or any happier with today's modern conveniences and gadgets. Another time that has come and gone, for the most part. As I've stated before in these pages, the "Good Ol' Days" are not always truthfully remembered. Just as is true for the times we live in today, there were good things and bad things about those times. Our memories tend to recall those times past with a lot more "wish it was" than truthfully happened. I think it's a very human way of coping with hardship, tragedy, loss and heartache.

Okay, enough of that, and on to some good stuff. There is a couple who are members of our church who have a 4 month old baby. He is a sweetheart, and we have really hit it off. If I can beat all the other ladies to him, I hold him every chance I get, and usually he goes to sleep in my arms before church is over. I don't think there's a better, more satisfying feeling than holding a baby in your arms, especially a baby you have rocked to sleep. I always have an aching arm and an aching heart, too. It's so worth the aching arms to be able to hold them and cradle them to your heart. The aching heart is because you're overflowing with the love and sweetness, the maternal joy and contentment of mothering that baby, even if it's not your own child. It is inbred in most of us women to nurture and comfort, to love and care for a child. How many times have you been at a mall, church, supermarket or any place where lots of people gather, and heard a child cry, "Mama!" without turning to assess the situation? It's instinct, even if you don't have children, yours are grown, or yours are not with you at the time. And every Mama knows those individual cries.... The "alarm" cry, the "danger" cry, the "pain" cry, the "just a mad fit" cry, and the hungry, sleepy, cranky---and you fill in the occasion. Not to take away anything from our Daddies who are doing their very best to nurture and care for their children, or from those women who are incapable of giving birth to children of their own or choose not to have children, but there is a connection between a Mama and her child after carrying that child cradled under her heart for 9 months. I have the greatest respect and admiration for people who choose to adopt a child or children. Sometimes they have to work extra hard to forge that parent/child relationship. And occasionally, even if you've given birth to a child there is a problem with the parent/child bonding. I am blessed beyond measure with the relationship I had with my parents, and with Jessica.

Even though my relationship with Mama and Daddy wasn't perfect by any means, there was always love. And no matter what may come and go between me and Jessica, my love for her is unshakeable. I will not always approve of her actions, but my love for her is inviolable, even in those times when I want to shake her till her teeth rattle or when I'm grieving over the circumstances she finds herself in because of bad decisions. God is ever so much more loving and patient with us, don't you think? Thank you, Lord for that love and patience. I know I try Him every day.

Well, my sister, Sue and her hubby just brought me some fresh-picked poke salad greens, and I want to fix some to go with our supper. I know my sister Donna is waiting impatiently for this new post, because she called a little while ago for another reason and told me I needed to post something new, she had already worn out the last one. So, I will hopefully get this posted and go tend to my supper for the evening. Just in case you were wondering, Baked chicken breasts, purple hull peas frozen last summer that Donna brought me, mashed potatoes and now, poke salad, probably scrambled with eggs. Mmmmmmmm.........good. Don't you wish you could come over for supper? LOL. :-)


THIS JUST IN: Boomama asked in comments about poke salad, and I Googled it. Lo and behold, there were a few fairly good pics of it in the images. I explained about what it is in my reply to her comment. I failed to tell her how to cook it, though. You wash it and pick over it like any greens, then boil them down, changing the water a time or 2 if you don't like the strong flavor so much. Drain most of the pot liqueur off and season with salt and, if desired, bacon drippings or a little oil. Cook a few minutes to season through, and serve, or break a few eggs into it and scramble together if desired. The more poke you have, the more eggs you add. I like spinach scrambled with eggs, too. Oh, you out there with your nose turned up, don't knock it till you try it! It's good stuff, I told you!

Click on any of my pictures on here to see them larger and in a little better detail.

Mama-Isms

As I was ruminating about what to post today, my thoughts kept returning to something Boomama said in one of her comments on here. She said that some of my Mama's expressions crack her up, and that I should do a post on those. So, without further ado, here are just a few of my Mama's Southern expressions. I like to call them, Mama-isms.

1. Toexpress shock or surprise:
Heavens to Murgatroyd!
Land O'Goshen!
Heavenly Days!
Glory Be!
Good Gracious Alive!
I'll Be Dad-Blamed!
Well, I Swan! (or, Swanney) To Goodness!

3. When one of us kids had pushed her beyond all toleration: Stop that, or I'm gonna slap the snot outta you, then slap you for snottin'! Or, I'm gonna knock the whey outta you! Or, I'm gonna paste you up against the wall! To dogs, cats, or kids: If you don't get out from under my feet I'm gonna kick a slat outta you! (Mama just used these expressions, she never acted on them in a violent way, LOL. :-)

4. Something spoiled or ruined: Rurnt. Milk starting to go bad: Blinky. If it's too far gone, it's rurnt.


5. Drunker than Ol' Cooter Brown. So drunk he couldn't hit the ground with his ol' hat. Drunk: He was three sheets in the wind. If someone had dark circles under their eyes: His eyes looked like 2 holes burnt in a white sheet.

6. Dumb: He's light under the hat. He ain't got the sense God give a goose. That there was for want of sense. He's crazy as a bessie bug. He's dumb as a stump. Dumb as a box of rocks. He's drunk on ignernce (ignorance) and staggerin' on stupidity.

7. So good it'll make you hip up and pop your Thomas.
Anything particularly good, especially food: It's gooder'n snuff and better'n taters.
So skinny she had to turn sideways to cast a shadow.
So ugly the dog wouldn't play with him.
So ugly they had to tie a pork chop around his neck to get the dog to play with him.
So lazy you had to light a (corn) shuck under him to get him to move.
So lazy you had to draw a line in front of him to see if he moved.
Coffee so strong the spoon'll stand up in it.

8. Tighter than Dick's hatband.
Colder than a well digger's behind. (censored)
Tighter than a jug.
Slow as Christmas.
Slow as molasses.
Ugly as a mud fence.
Ugly as homemade soap.
Rare as hen's teeth.
Flat as a flitter.
Colder than a brass monkey.
Cold as kraut.
Lost as a goose.
Lost as a ball in high weeds.
Mean as a snake.
Old as the hills.
Limp as a dishrag. (Usually referring to a handshake, or someone's hair.)
Dead as a mackerel.
Dead as a hammer.
Dead as a doornail.
Straight as a string. Straight as a board. (Usually referring to hair.)
Wild as a March hare.
Clumsy as a bull in a china shop.
Black as the ace of spades. (When something is dirty.)
Mad as an old wet hen.
Staggering around like a burnt-toed chicken. (One of my personal favorites! LOL.)
Thicker than hair on a dog's back.
Raining like pouring pee out of a boot. (Censored version.)
Dry as a powder house. (As in, gun powder, which has to be kept super dry.)
When thirsty: I'm so dry I could spit cotton.
He was so henpecked he didn't know whether to lay down or throw back the mattress and roost on the slats.
When tired: I've got the blind staggers.

9. I need to go see a man about a dog. (Need to visit the restroom.)
The whole bunch ain't worth the powder and lead it'd take to blow 'em to Kingdom Come.
Backslidden people in church: You couldn't blow a holy grunt out of them with a stick of dynamite.
When someone would insert a comment on a new subject in the middle of a conversation: What's that got to
do with the price of tea in China?
Anything she didn't like: That's for the birds!
When someone's clothes were too tight: She looks like a sack of meal with a string tied around it.
When you're sick or don't feel well: I feel like I was called fer and couldn't go. (Referring to Death.)
He's got a gut on him like a traveling rat.
For annoying people: Like trying to get rid of a bad case of the itch.
A big rain: A real trash mover. A toad-strangler.
If someone is trying to encourage someone else to hurry up: Here's your hat, what's your hurry?
When someone lived some distance away: They live a fer (fair) piece off. Or, they live clear to Hades and
gone. (censored)
Haven't seen them in a coon's age. Or, a month of Sundays.
They lived so fer back in the woods they had to pipe in daylight.
When someone couldn't hit a target, usually with a gun: He couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Or, He
couldn't hit a bull in the, um, rear, with a bass fiddle. (censored)
He's got a smile on him like the wave on a slop jar. (Referring to a pot for nighttime bathroom needs.)
We ain't had this much excitement since Granny got her, um, boob, in the wringer. (censored)

I've got more, folks, but I'll save them for another day. I think of new ones all the time, and one of the sisters says something every once in a while and reminds me of one of Mama's sayings. Keep in mind, too, that Mama wasn't saved till she was in her 30's, and then she was backslid and out of church for a good while. A lot of the things she used to say were a little raunchy, and I censored them. She censored them herself when she got back in church and rededicated her life to Christ.

If you have any you'd like to offer, leave them in my comments. I'd be interested in hearing them. Here's hoping everyone is having a great Tuesday! :-)

I Am From..................

I have already done Diane's version of this, but Mary at Owlhaven has a contest going on using this, so here is my formal version. If you want to participate or read more about it, you can find the details HERE.

I AM FROM.......

I am from cast iron skillets, from Ivory soap, and hard work.

I am from, "Yes, there's plenty for one more.....Diane, get 'em a plate, and Cecil, fix 'em a glass of tea," with the smells of good food, pinto beans, fried potatoes and cornbread baked in a cast iron skillet wafting in the hot, humid summer air.

I am from the bouquets of violets and dandelions, and small branches off our "money tree", placed in old glass bottles scavenged from the burn pile, and lovingly given to and received by Mama, the rich green of the cotton plants in the fields, and Ducky's creamy white magnolias scenting the early morning breeze.

I am from all the family and some friends gathering at our house on Sundays and holidays, and going to bed early and getting up before the chickens, from Fred and Martha and Frank and Lue.

I am from people who love to hunt and fish, which many a time put food on our table, and who cherish family and friends and our Faith.

From coffee that will either put hair on your chest or turn your toenails black, and not wasting food, because somewhere in the world people would love to have what I didn't want, nasty as I might think it was, and for my part, they were welcome to it, just come and get it.

I am from Southern Baptists and Assembly of God, and a few heathens that we are working on, (smile). I am from chilly Easter sunrise services, and paper fans and fighting mosquitoes. I am from church Homecoming services with counters and tables overflowing with the best from our gardens and the best from our baking and cooking. I am from knowing and loving the same church families and friends from birth to death.

I'm from being born at Smith's Clinic in Trumann, Arkansas, and I and all my family still live with 25 miles of our birthplace, and from chicken and dressing and homemade Wesson Oil Cake with 7-Minute frosting and coconut.

From the time I stepped on the bottom of a broken Coke bottle and cut my ankle to the bone, but I begged Daddy not to take me to get stitches, and I have a big scar there to this day, and from the time we were moving into a new house, and as we pushed the cook stove back against the wall, the bottom of the stove cut into the 220 watt cable and shorted it out, and Mama and 3 of us grown girls all went through a standard-size doorway at the same time, and the way Charles always had to comb his hair before he sat down to eat, even if he was filthy elsewhere.

I am from photographs and what-nots, from little bits of jewelry, scattered among all of us 5 daughters, from a family that truly knows the worth of those things, since Mama and Daddy's house and a lot of our family photos burned in 1987. But I am also from a family that realizes that as precious as those things are, our memories and the lives that were saved that day are even more precious. Those precious memories and lives are everything. They are priceless.

I Am From...................

I borrowed this idea from Mary at Owlhaven, and she has a wonderful post up now using this idea. The point is to build on the words, "I am from.........." It is a writing prompt to tell about your childhood memories, and family traditions, etc. I have posted several pictures and stories about my childhood, but I will try to expand on the idea a little. Those of you who are plumb sick of hearing about me-----Sorry, I guess you can visit some of my other blogger friends and pass on this one. ;-)

I AM FROM............

I am from rural Northeast Arkansas. I am from what some people might consider a very poor family, but we were rich in the things that mattered most. I posted a little about some of my growing up years here, if you'd like to read this first. The house we lived in from the time I was 4 years old up until I was almost 9 had no plumbing, and the only running water we had was when Mama told one of us to run and pump a bucket of water. We had hand pump just like the one to the left, there, but ours was red, or had no paint at all from daily use and weathering.

I am from cotton fields. All the places I grew up that I remember were surrounded by cotton fields, like the one to the right, there. I chopped cotton every summer for spending money, and I bought some of my school clothes and other things with my money, too. I chopped every summer from my 10th year until the summer I graduated from high school. The first year I chopped cotton, I just blew some of the money on kid stuff, junk food and things like that, but I'll wager most of you would never be able to guess one thing I bought with some of that money. I still have part of them, too. Now, remember, I was 10 years old at the time, but I was pretty mature for my age, and I worked hard for that money, too. If you've never chopped cotton, you don't know what you're missing, folks. Anyway...........I bought 2 sets of cotton percale sheets at P.N. Hirsch. The store is long gone, but one set of the sheets is not. I gave Mama a set of the sheets when I got married, and they burned when their house burned, which you can read about here. I still have the other set, and they are worn, but the pillow cases and top sheet are still usable. As Mama would say, you could throw a broom straw through the fitted sheet. I guess I am hanging onto it just for the sake of old memories. I am 42 now, so if I am doing the math right, that would make that set of sheets 32 years old, folks. I think it was a wise investment, myself.

I am from a time of playing with june bugs and lightning bugs. I remember catching june bugs and tying strings around them and letting them fly on the string. We caught big horseflies and what we called dry flies, too, and tied strings on them. Other people call them locusts or July flies, but they are really called cicadas. There's a green june bug to the right, there, and a lightning bug to the left. We used to catch lightning bugs, or fireflies to some people not fortunate enough to grow up in the South, and put them in jars with holes punched in the lid. They would begin their magical flashing a little before dusk, and we ended many a hot, humid summer evening sweaty, but victorious, our jars full of the flickering little critters. One thing, though, that was very important: no harming any of the bugs. They had to be released at the end of the day, if not before. And WOE to the child (or adult) who harmed a toad frog if Mama found out about it.Yes, in our family, they are properly termed, toad frogs.

I am from people who love to raise chickens, like those over there to the left. Sue's husband, Charles is the only one in the family who still has chickens, but Ducky and Donna have had chickens at various times. We had several different kinds of chickens. For instance, we had red ones.....and white ones...............black ones.............You get the idea. We had whatever people gave us or Mama traded for, and then they interbred, so we had what I guess you'd call mongrel chickens, LOL. All I know is the eggs and meat from those chickens were so much better than what you can buy at Kroger these days that it's unreal. If I lived in a house outside the city limits, I'd probably have chickens today.

I am from Tornado Alley. My Daddy was terrified of storms. Only my Mama's composure and good sense kept Daddy from taking her and us kids out into danger sometimes when it stormed. Daddy would wait until the height of the storm, then decide it was bad enough to go the neighbors' storm cellar, or later, to our own. Thank the Good Lord, I took after Mama rather than Daddy when it comes to storms. I remember a time when we kids

were younger, we saw a tornado very similar to the one there to the right. I was about 11 at the time, which made Cecil 10, and my nieces and nephews ranged from 7 on down to toddlers. We were playing on the front porch of the house we lived in at the time. Our nearest neighbor lived about a mile away, and we were surrounded by cotton fields, so we had a long view in every direction. It was a cloudy, muggy day in the Spring , and we were playing with a big old box. We were playing like a tornado was coming, and I was the oldest, so I would herd all the kids (Yes, all the kids! It was a big box, I said!) into the box, which was our play storm cellar. Only one time when I looked across the field, there really WAS a tornado, maybe 3 miles across the field. I ran in the house and told Mama, Sue and Ducky, but they knew we were playing like a tornado was coming, and they thought we were just trying to lure them out to play with us, or just trying to get their attention. I finally convinced Mama to come look. I was practically in tears, and when she saw the tornado, she apologized for doubting me. She called the sheriff's office, but they wouldn't come check on it, so she called the Bay police department, but by the time they got out there, it had already dissipated. It would have been all the same if people had died, though, from the lack of interest from the sheriff's department.

I am from a family that loves food, and loves to cook good food. I was raised on pinto beans and fried potatoes, with cornbread and a little meat sometimes, too. Other times it was white beans and biscuits, and maybe stewed potatoes. Mama always joked that when we got tired of beans and potatoes, we'd have potatoes and beans for a change. Those are dried pinto beans there to the left. That's how they look before they're cooked. There's some cornbread there to the right. Notice it's in a cast iron skillet. In my opinion, it's the absolute best way to cook cornbread, bar none. We still eat a lot of beans and potatoes today, and cornbread, too. Mama made either biscuits or corn bread almost every meal, including breakfast sometimes. Daddy only liked light bread for a sandwich, and he griped if Mama didn't make biscuits, especially if she made cream gravy and he had to eat it

with light bread. Of course our beverage of choice with most of those meals was sweet tea. Iced tea, that is, a lot like that glass over there to the left. Plastic wasn't used nearly as much when I was a kid, and Mama used wide -mouth gallon jugs for tea jugs. I had made tea for dinner one day, and was stirring it with a metal spoon and broke that gallon jug of sweet tea. Do you have any idea exactly how much area a gallon of tea can cover? A BIG area, folks. What a mess, plus I had to make another gallon of tea, plus the wasted tea and sugar.

I am from a family of music lovers. A lot of times after a big Sunday dinner, we'd get out the old hymnals and song books and gather round the table and sing the old songs. A lot of times we had tall glasses of iced tea to drink, too, because we never had air conditioning growing up. Ah, the memories. I learned a lot of the songs I know from those afternoons, singing along with Mama and the sisters. It helped me learn to sing harmony, too, and to this day I would rather sing harmony than melody, most of the time. One of our favorite songbooks to sing from was (and IS) the Heavenly Highway Hymnal. There is the front of one to the right. The ones we used to sing from were a lot more well-used and well-loved, though. Most of the covers were gone, but oh, we loved them. Now some of the family that used to gather around the table and sing is gone, but, oh, how we love them, and miss them.

I am from a family rich with love, traditions, memories..................And did I mention........LOVE?

Mindless Dribblings and Jessica Pics

I wish I could tell you all that I have something hysterically funny, or thought-provokingly serious or even some important bit of news to impart, but I don't. Just more of my usual mindless dribblings. I have done absolutely nothing constructive today, with the exception of cooking supper and cleaning the litter pan. I did go to revival at church again tonight. It has been really good, and I am enjoying going every night, but it is tiring and painful for me, too. My arthritis is giving me fits.

Wednesday was the 11th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing, and Mike has a beautiful post memorializing it on his blog. It really doesn't seem possible that 11 years have passed. Time passes so quickly, and even more so the older I get.

It doesn't seem possible that my baby should be 18 years old and about to graduate from high school, but she is and she is. *Sigh*.................Where does the time go, can someone please tell me? I am kind of coasting now, I suppose. I am learning to let go more, but I still worry when she's out of sight. I find now that it's not a constant worry, or even an every day worry. It's just at certain times. Something will trigger my Mama Radar. Like, for instance, an ambulance screaming down the highway. Or knowing storms or bad weather is imminent. Hearing from someone about a bad wreck on the road between home and wherever she is. Heck, sometimes it may be a wreck 20 miles the other direction from where she is supposed to be, but the Mama Radar is triggered anyway. I don't know which is worse, having one chick to cluck over and learn to let go of, or having several in your brood and having to let go multiple times.

Jessica actually graduates May 19, but she won't go on to college until August. She will move into (Aaaack! I just realized how bad that looks in print!) the dorm either the end of July or the first of August, and that will be when I have the hardest time, I think. Hopefully, I will do some adjusting in the meantime and be able to deal with it without her having to drag me along, clinging pitifully *but with a death-grip* to her legs as she's trying to get in the car for the official first night in the dorms. She has informed me that she still plans to make use of the Momdromat facilities, and also plans to dine at Chez Mom's quite a bit, too. Maybe desperation will bring her home for a visit when love alone won't. LOL. ;-)

Starting with the first picture, Jessica is 7 months old.

In the second one, she is 15 months old.

In the third pic, she is 2 yrs. and 10 months old.

The fourth one is my favorite of her graduation photos, and she is 17 years old.

When I get my photo blog done, these and many more will be on there for those of you who are gluttons for punishment. I've even got some nekkid baby pictures of her, but I am hesitant to put those up. They are perfectly innocent, but with all the pedophiles and sickos out there, I am really thinking, "NO". What are your thoughts on the issue? I really would like your input on this. Leave me a comment, or a link if you decide to address this in your blog.

The witching hour is almost over, and we're heading into the wee hours now. Diane is getting tired and sleepy, so I will post this and see you all tomorrow in blogland. Have a good Thursday, everyone. :-)

My 10 Simple Pleasures

I was visiting some of my blogger friends earlier, kind of kicking around some thoughts about what to post tonight, and I visited Jeana. You remember from my last post that she has a cool new template, and a new address as well? She was tagged to do another meme, this time it's 10 Simple Pleasures. Hmmmmm......Okay, I think I can do that.

DIANE'S 10 SIMPLE PLEASURES
(In no particular order)

1. Warm cookies fresh from the oven with a big glass of ice cold milk.

2. Holding a sleeping baby. Freebie: Also, the scent of a clean baby.

3. Having all the doors locked for the night, with my daughter and husband and me safely inside for the night.

4. Being freshly shaved and showered, and getting into a freshly made bed, made with sun-dried linens.

5. Falling snow, and new snow with no tracks or marks on it.

6. Holding a purring cat in my lap.

7. Someone telling me, "I Love You," and knowing they sincerely mean it. Especially my hubby, daughter and other family. :-) And, telling them the same, and having them know I mean it from the bottom of my heart. :-)

8. Sitting down and looking at my clean house. (It happens so rarely, I never tire of seeing it. Really.)

9. The joy and peace of lying down to sleep at night, knowing I am safe in the arms of my loving, forgiving
GOD.

10. Opening a new can of ground Columbian coffee, and inhaling the de-larripin' coffee-licious aroma. Mmmmm.............Good.

Bonus: YOU. Yes, YOU, over there, still in your gown and housecoat that you wouldn't be seen dead in out in public, but it's the most comfortable outfit you own. And YOU, the one in the old t-shirt and sweats with the cranky baby on your hip, blogging with your right hand as you jiggle the baby with your left. And I could never forget YOU there, the one with all those problems and troubles of your own, but you take the time to leave comments on all the new blogs, the ones who are struggling with Spiritual battles, the ones who need a word of encouragement. And then there's YOU, you who finds humor in everyday things, and helps us to laugh at ourselves.

Did you find yourself in any of those descriptions? Because you're there, blogger friends, I know you are. And I appreciate you, every one. :-)

Regarding the photos, the first one is me and Jessica, in early September 1988. She is 10 months old here.
Notice the old housecoat? LOL :-) Ah, the peace and contentment of a sleeping baby. *Sigh*.............
The second one is Candy, my 13 year old Siamese mixed kitty. You can't really tell from the photo, but she is on a pillow on my lap, and I took the picture. She is getting to be an old lady, and I am dreading having to give her up. She's like a member of the family. *Sniff.......Sigh*..............

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Just FYI, I am sitting here blogging away in an old housedress and house shoes, my usual blogging uniform. ;-)
Just for fun, if you'd like, leave me a comment telling me what you're wearing when you read this. I'll bet it'll be fun, and no cheating. ;-) If you have on a polyester lounge suit and platform shoes, you'd best 'fess up, LOL. :-)

That's about all I have for this post. Anybody else who'd like to participate, feel free to put a link in my comments. This one served 2 purposes---It gave me something to post, and it helped me count some of my many blessings. Hope everyone has a Wonderful Wednesday. :-)

More OLD Photographs

Several of my blogger friends have mentioned in my comments how much they like the photos I have been posting, and especially the older ones. Well, these are about the oldest I have, I believe. The top one is my maternal Grandmother, Martha Belle (Halcomb) Headrick, then Hervey. That is my maternal Grandfather, Freddie Edgar Headrick. They hadn't been married very long when this picture was taken. I'm always tickled at how thrilled they look here. Notice her dark cotton stockings and button-up shoes? And how he is at least 6 inches taller than her, but their arms are the same length? His arms look like they are 3 feet long, LOL. If I remember correctly, (and there is absolutely no guarantee that I am) Grandma told me that she had just found out she was pregnant with their first baby, Elmer. The picture is dated 1921. You can read more about them here in this post from back in the February archives if you're interested. Scroll down to Sunday, February 26. Grandma was a character, I assure you, and any of the sisters can vouch for that and back me up on it.

I never saw the woman in less than 2 full slips, panties, a girdle, stockings with homemade elastic garters, and sometimes socks on over the stockings. After pantyhose came along, she wore them every day, and most of the time she had on a camisole or undershirt and her bra, and many times more full slips, too. She was a kid's dream, because she was scared of everything, and no matter how many times you threw a plastic spider on her, she screamed just as loudly the 6th time as she did the first.

In the early 70's she still had an outhouse. One day we "went out back", and while I was attending to business, I heard her screaming and cussin' (it just don't sound right with the "g" on it, does it?) and just generally raising Cain. I emerged from the toilet and she had a garden hoe, chopping at something on the ground. She had the very end of the hoe handle, and was backed as far from whatever "it" was as she could get and still whack the tar out of "it". She was cussing a blue streak about a snake. I looked for a snake, expecting to see one at least 6 feet long what with all the ruckus and all. I looked...........and I looked.........and I looked some more. I couldn't find a snake anywhere. Finally she pointed out some mangled remains. She had chopped up a poor little night crawler! An earthworm, that is, to the uninitiated. We have those around here, and some of them are a good 10-12 inches long, but they are harmless, and the poor thing died a gory, violent death at her hands. I asked her, "Grandma, couldn't you see that was a night crawler, not a snake?"
Her answer was classic "Grandma": "Well, it was doing a d**n good snake imitation at the time!!"

The second picture is of Grandma and her brother-in-law, Jesse Greenwood. Uncle Jesse was married to her sister, Aunt Lurene, or as we called her, Aint Ween. All the kids had trouble pronouncing her name, so that's what it became condensed to. My Mama was named after Uncle Jesse and Aint Ween. Her name was Jessie Lurene Headrick. I believe this pic was taken around 1935 or so. Both of them died before I was born, so I have only seen pictures and heard stories about them. From the stories, they were both characters, too, especially Aint Ween. What would any of us be without our family characters and stories? Boring, for one. :-)

We started revival at our church, and I will be gone every night this week to church. I may be a little lax on posting this week, but I will try not to let you get too far behind on all the exciting happenings in my life, LOL.

Monday was busy for me. Cecil, Sue and I went to Trumann to Walmart to do a little shopping. The Tropical Sno stand was open for the first time today, and we HAD to stop there. I got an Orange Creme, and Cecil got the Wedding Cake. They were delicious, and really hit the spot, too, since we hit an all-time record high temperature here today. It was 94 degrees, folks. The average high for this date is 70. I told Mike in a comment earlier, Spring was last Monday and Tuesday, and he missed it. Check out his blog. He works at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, and the record high there today was 101 degrees! The former record was 94, and it was set back in 1924. Poor Mike, he works outside in the heat, too. I just checked the temperature on his time/temp link to DFW International Airport, and it's still 81 degrees at 3 am. Mercy sakes, that's miserable!

We are in a drought, as well, besides the unseasonal heat. The rice farmers are having to flood their fields early just to get the rice to sprout, and the cotton, soybeans, corn and milo may not sprout at all, especially if it doesn't rain soon. If it's this hot and dry this early in the season, what's the rest of this summer going to be like? I dread the heat, 'deedy I do. :-(

Jeana has a new template on her blog, and I am so jealous. I would like to change mine, but I am gunshy after almost completely wiping mine out a week or so ago. I get aggravated with Demon Blogger sometimes, but I will just stay with the status quo for a while longer.

Well, as mentioned just above, it's 3 am here in the fair city of Bay, Arkansas, and Diane is getting sleepy for some reason. I am posting this, then going off in search of Mr. Sandman. Hope everyone has a wonderful Tuesday today. :-)

HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE ! ! !

Easter 1971 & 6 Weird Things About Me

Mary at Owlhaven tagged me to do a meme concerning 6 weird things about me, so I'm kind of killing 2 birds with one stone, here. The picture to the left there is from Easter, 1971, if I have it figured right. Disregard the date of Aug. 1974 on the top. We were sometimes a bit lax about getting the film developed. Just a bit. (!) I submit that this photo should count for at least one weird thing about me, if not several! I won't cheat, though, I'll do all 6 in a moment.
I've had this pic on here before, when I first started the blog, but it was back in early February, I think, in the archives, so many of you haven't seen it before. I pulled it out for a rerun because of the Easter theme, and the weird meme, too.

If there are any photo bugs out there, I believe this pic, and I know many others I have, were taken with my Mom's old Brownie Hawkeye camera. It may have only taken black and white film, though. I can't remember. I remember the camera, though. It was dark brown Bakelite, and it was very heavy for its size. It was square, about a 5 1/2 inch cube, and the viewfinder was on top. You had to look down on the top of it to focus on the shot. That was another thing lost in the fire mentioned a few posts back. Ducky had this and several pics in her collection when the house burned, and I am so thankful for that. Ducky and zztop can correct me if I'm wrong about the date and the camera.

Now for the 6 weird things, if I can actually come up with 6 weird things. You wouldn't think it would be too hard to do, as odd as I am, would you?

6 WEIRD THINGS ABOUT DIANE

1. I have a very accurate internal clock, awake or asleep. I can usually tell within 10 minutes or so what time it
is, and how much time has passed if I am trying to time something. For example, a cake in the oven. I can set
my internal alarm to wake up at a particular time, too, and I am pretty accurate at that, too.

2. I don't want any of my food touching on the plate. I hate for something juicy to run under something else on
the plate. I use a lot of dishes and disposable plates and bowls in pursuit of keeping my food separated. One
(sometimes) exception is mashed potatoes and gravy together, and chicken and dressing with giblet gravy
it. You can preach all you want about it all going to the same place, folks. Talk to the hand.............

3. I do an uncannily realistic dog bark. I even fool the dogs, sometimes. Don't ask, it was a skill developed in
childhood, and it still stands me in good stead (whatever that means, but it sounds good here) today,
especially when I want to scare off a yapping dog, or start the whole neighborhood barking for no good
reason. I know that's a skill others long to attain, but fail miserably. So there.....Nyah.....(sticks out tongue.)

4. I have a very highly developed sense of direction. I almost always can tell you which way I am facing, even in
buildings where I can't see out windows to orient on the sun. My sister Ducky will tell you I probably got her
skills in that area as well as my allotment. She can get lost in her backyard, and she will be the first one to tell
you that.

5. I am good with most animals, but especially with birds. We just seem to "know" each other almost
immediately. Even birds who bite and show aggression to others are usually very gentle with me. I'm very
good and patient about taming wild things, too, especially cats. Works pretty good with troubled people
occasionally, too.

6. With a few exceptions of people who are deliberately closed to me, I am very good at reading people on
first meeting them. It has sometimes been a while before they showed the side of them I sensed on first
acquaintance, but I am right about people more often than I'm wrong. When I am wrong, though, I have
no problem admitting it. The hard part is struggling not to judge people because of this. Working on it,
though.

7. Here's an extra, no charge. I am probably a little obsessive compulsive about this, but I have to have all my
bills in my wallet turned the same way, faces up, with the larger denominations in the back, ones in front.
Not that I usually have much money in my wallet to obsess over. I also know within a penny or two exactly how much cash I have in my wallet at any given time, and usually I know to the penny.

Somehow, it sounds better to call these things "personality quirks", rather than weird things. Anyway, Mary, I did it. It was kind of fun, though. Can't wait to see some others, but I think this has made its way to most everyone now, so I won't tag anyone. I know a lot of people don't like memes. If you read this and want to participate, tell me about it in my comments and link to yours if you wish.

Moving on now. Tomorrow being Easter, my sister Ducky's son, Danny and his wife Mikki have invited us all to their house for dinner tomorrow after church. That's the noon meal here, folks, which has been discussed here before. I am making some kidney bean salad, and I think I will make some chicken and dressing, too. They are baking a turkey and a ham, and the rest of us are bringing side dishes and desserts, drinks, etc. Since I am going to church in the morning, and it's a 30 minute drive to their house, I have to make something I can keep hot and/or cold until serving time. I can put cold things in the fridge at church, and I suppose I can keep the dressing warm in the oven there, too. I wish I had one of those insulated carriers with a casserole dish, or the crockpot set like that. I will do something, though. I am looking forward to getting together, and to the meal, too. If everyone comes that Danny invited, he said there should be about 25-30 people there. Since Mom and Dad died, we just kind of drift around, with most of us doing our own things on Sundays and holidays. If anybody gathers at all, it's usually here at my little 4 room apartment. I don't mind at all, though, I am honored that everyone feels comfortable here.

Well, gotta go tend to supper. I'm boiling a chicken for the dressing, and we are having some of the chicken for supper. I have to go find something else to go with it. I am starving, and the growling beast in my tummy is getting restless.

Happy Easter ! !

Have I Mentioned It's A Bit Windy?

Hello, all. Just a teeny smidgeon of sarcasm, there, with the title. Welcome to Spring in the Midsouth. Talk about your extremes! Monday morning we had frost, then a high of 80 degrees. All the while, and every day since, the wind has been blowing a moderate gale. It hit 87 degrees yesterday, and it's 85 as I type this at 3:00 in the afternoon. Partly cloudy and gorgeous, if it wasn't so dang Windy! Too windy to fish or much of anything else constructive outside. Forget hanging clothes on the line, unless you want to have to 1. Unscrew them from the clothesline with a cordless drill, or, 2. Chase them across the neighborhood till they snag on a bush, or, 3. Have to wash them again and start all over because most of the farmland in these parts is airborne at the moment. Imagine bringing in "clean" clothes that are dirtier than when you put them in the washing machine to begin with. There is no problem telling where the farmers are working in the fields right now. The dust clouds can be seen for miles. That's when they're not blowing in huge clouds across the highways and roads. In the past we have had some deadly pileups and wrecks in the brown-outs from all the dirt and dust in the air. It's pretty dry right now, too, and that is not helping matters in the least.

Notice the beautiful photo of the clematis? My handsome, suave, talented BIL Johnny snapped that pic yesterday of my sister, zztop's clematis vine. He had just watered it (did I mention it's dry around here?) and I love the way the droplets sparkle and glow on the petals. It looks professional, doesn't it? I asked permission to use it on here, and told him I would give him proper credit for using it.

Irma, her boyfriend ChrisTopher (nicknamed Topher from now on) and I went riding around last night. They didn't have school today because it's Good Friday, so we just rode around with the windows down, listening to the radio, CD's and enjoying the warm spring night and the full moon. We had a great time, and covered some new ground. We drove through some places I've heard of and seen on the map, but never been before. Of course, it was dark, even with the full moon, so we didn't see much. Saw a lot of critters, though, including a fox, several possums, some cats, and something we couldn't decide if it was a cat or a dog, so we called it a "cog".

We started out on the twisty-turny-hilly road to Poinsett Lake. Family, you know the one I'm talking about. I think it's called Dawson Road, now. Irma has always loved hills and curves, even as a baby. We would take her driving on Hwy. 141 to Walcott just to watch her giggle, almost until she lost her breath. She loved it as a baby and kid, and she is still a thrill-seeker now at 18 years old. You know that feeling when you top a hill with a sudden drop on the other side? The feeling like you left your stomach at the top as you're already accelerating down? We call it either "tickling your tummy" or "turning your stomach over". She absolutely loves that feeling, and she rides all the "terror" rides she can get access to. I like rollercoasters, and that is about as adventurous as I get. She rides all the big rides at the theme parks, bungee jumps when she can, and wants to sky dive. Just thinking about it sets off all my "Mama Alarms". I don't worry over much of anything I have no control over, and I don't sit and dwell on those things, but taking unnecessary risks in search of a thrill does concern me. I'm learning to let go and remember she is in God's hands, but if I know she is doing something risky, my heart skips a beat.....or several. Sorry, unavoidable Mama thing, there. I can't help it, it's bred into my genes to be concerned about the safety of my kid. See, I even said, "be concerned", not "worry about". I'm showing improvement, aren't I? Hey, just agree with me, here, okay? Encourage me, already! LOL :-)

From Poinsett Lake, we went through Vanndale, and on to Levesque, then to Parkin and Earle. From there to Marion. We came out behind the new regional rail yard there. Ahhhh..........the unforgettable scent of diesel fumes wafting in the warm breeze through the open windows, and the captivating view of forty-leven locomotives ethereally glowing by the light of the magical, mystical full moon........ Now...... Imagine a buzz saw hard at work in the back seat. Also imagine you've got to pee like a Russian racehorse. (I've have often wondered.......Why does a Russian racehorse have to pee any worse than your common, ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill racehorse? I'm just askin', here.....) Also imagine you kind of know where you're at, but not exactly how to make the interchange to get on the interstate where you WILL know where you're at. Imagine making some sudden executive decisions at almost 70 mph in an effort to make that interchange. Imagine the buzz saw in the back seat coming up out of the backseat swinging when Irma deliberately swerves onto the rumble strip on the side of the road. Imagine it's 2 am and everything is absolutely hilarious. Imagine how you feel with a FULL BLADDER and everything is absolutely hilarious. Yeah. Feel my pain. We had a grand time, but about all I remember about the last 30 minutes or so was, "Man, do I have to PEE!"

Was that a redneck evening, or what? I loved it, and I will remember it fondly. I needed it, too. What with yesterday being the anniversary of Mama's death, I was all over the register, emotionally. It really helped just to get out of the house and take my mind off everything for a while. I want to thank EVERYONE who left such beautiful comments about yesterday's tribute to Mama, and for your sweet words. I am still overwhelmed by the love and thoughtfulness that went into your words, and I appreciate them so much. Thank you, sweet family and friends. Thank you to all my new friends who have commented lately, too. Like Connie and Rob from Missouri, Sue from California, (not my sister, Sue) Paulette from Texas, and Jenny from Roatan. Jenny is in the links on my sidebar, and I visit her often, but this is the first time she has commented here. I hope I haven't missed anyone. If I did, it was purely an oversight, not a slight to anyone. I am thrilled with all my blogger friends. It's like we have our own little online community here. I don't know how I got by without my internet and my blogging up till now. I just got online in November of 2005, and started blogging the last of January this year, but it seems like I've been blogging forever, and that some of us have been friends for a long time.

Blogger family and friends, You are the absolute best. God Bless you and yours. Happy Easter to everyone.