How do we even begin to count our blessings? In a time where much of what we hear is complaining, doomsday prophesies, when our family and friends are suffering through bad health, loss of jobs and homes, sometimes it is difficult to see where our blessings lie. But for all the negative energy and in the reality of pain and loss, we don't have to look far to see our blessings. Around this time of year it is common to hear people freely speak of "What I Am Thankful For". During the month of November, some of my friends on Facebook would list something every day for which they are thankful. I so enjoyed reading those posts. Some were humorous, but most were very sincere thoughts from the hearts of those who are humbled by their blessings. Most all of us would list our family, our homes, our jobs, our health, our faith, you know... the big ticket items that we seem to take for granted until they're gone. Yet, the Bible teaches us "In everything give thanks..." (I Thessalonians 5:18) Now that's a very high goal for which to strive. I don't understand it, and it is often difficult to do. But because my faith allows me to see a bigger picture, I know that "all things work together for good for those who love God." I don't understand much of what happens, but I do know that no matter what happens, the God that I love will never desert me. I like the little saying that says something like: Life is not about learning how to avoid the storms. It's about learning how to dance in the rain.

As our world seems to get crazier every day, and our lives busier than ever before, let's not forget to be thankful for the little things. Learning to have a grateful heart in even the small things will change the way we see things in every perspective. When I am whining about how "tough" my life is, I think of the thousands of people, perhaps hundreds of thousands of people would gladly trade their life for my version of "tough". You and I may have it "tougher" than some folks. No doubt we do. But then we have it a heck of a lot better than most folks. Let's be thankful for that. I love my family, my friends, my home, my job, and I'm thankful for them all. I love the freedom and liberty that we enjoy in our nation, but sadly are in perilous danger of losing. On a side note here, I'm doing some light research for a project I'm working on, and I've gotten my hands on some middle and high school history textbooks, as well as a copy of US History for Dummies. I'm fascinated by our country's history, and the more I learn, the more thankful I become for those who came before us and who paved the way for the birth of a nation. It is from these courageous adventurers that we began the custom of celebrating Thanksgiving. They didn't celebrate the day by poring over salespaper ads for Black Friday shopping. They didn't watch huge floats in the Macy's parade or turn on their big-screen tvs to watch football. No... they were too busy thanking the natives for teaching them how to grow crops, and most of all focusing on thanking God Almighty for bringing them through the worst winter of their lives, where many were lost because they did not have the things that we take for granted... food and shelter. It was a brutal beginning to what we call America. I'll be one of the first folks in line at Wal Mart on Friday, that's for sure, but I know that I am blessed, and I am truly thankful for each one. May we all find a quiet moment.... many moments.... during this season.... during each day of every season, to remember our blessings and be thankful. Happy Thanksgiving!!

Mr. Tom Turkey - Revised

Well, my wonderful Blogger friends... it is the Eve of Thanksgiving. The time when Suzy Homemakers all over the country are bustling about their kitchens, preparing for tomorrow's feast. Normally at this point, I would describe these activities in detail.... except I have no experience from which to draw, so I'll just leave it to your imagination and your own personal experience as to what happens in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Eve. Over the years, I've been blessed to be the benefactor of the Thanksgiving Eve labor of others, while my own personal contribution has usually been brown-n-serve rolls, or Mrs. Smith's apple pie, or the occasional green-bean-casserole. I've never, ever cooked a turkey. Never wanted to. (Still don't.)

In a way, it's a sad day today. It's the day of the Thanksgiving lunch at the office where I used to work, the first one since I left to go back to the hospital. My boss was a very generous man with Christmas bonuses, and knew the best way to make a girl happy was to give her the bonus at the luncheon... because he knows we all love to shop on Black Friday!!! I'm talking a very serious kind of generous here. It was fabulous. And so wonderful that he didn't make us wait until Christmas, but gave it to us in time for Major Shopping. And while I am very grateful for anything that anyone gives me, I knew it would bring back bittersweet memories when I received my $20.00 Wal Mart gift card from the hospital. Sorta pales in comparison, if you know what I mean. Granted.... the hospital has many, many MANY more employees than my former office, where there were only six gals working. So obviously, any gift at all from the hospital couldn't be very much. But, hey.... I'm the Queen of Wal Mart, so $20.00 at Wal Mart can still be a good thing! So I'm all geared up, prepared to graciously accept the gift card and try to remember how much better off I am in my current job (read about that story here), and try not to fret over the absence of my nice, big, fat, juicy, bonus check. And while I do appreciate any gift, and I do understand that we have lots of employees and everyone is having to tighten their belts, it was a tiny bit disappointing to learn that this year, instead of the Wal Mart card, we would be receiving a 10-12 lb frozen turkey off the back of the delivery truck that brings our cafeteria food. Not very exciting, but hey, I'd much rather have a 10-12 lb frozen turkey off the back of a transfer truck than a pink slip for me or any of my fellow hospital emloyees!! And lest I sound ungrateful, just let it be known here, that I am totally Paying It Forward, and donating my multi-thousand-dollar bird to Dustin's family's Thanksgiving feast.

Which brings us back to Tom Turkey and Suzy Homemaker. Those of you who know me well might remember that my cooking talents, what little there were to begin with, began to fade when I moved back to Statham in 1993. It's all my mom's fault. Whitney stayed with her after school, and when I returned from work to pick her up, my dinner was on the table every night. She spoiled me plumb rotton. Rurnt me, if you will. You know that whole use-it-or-lose-it thing? Yep, it applies with cooking as well. I seem to have lost my touch all together, and no longer even attempt. (Truth be known, I really CAN cook... but it is oh so wonderful to only be expected to bring paper plates, potato chips or rolls to all the covered-dish lunches and family reunions....)

DNA is an amazingly wonderful thing. Somewhere deep within the chain of molecules there lies a cooking gene, and though it must have been recessant in me, I do believe it has been passed on to Whitney in its more dominant form. Bless her heart. Her mama didn't teach her nuthin' regarding the culinary arts, but she has turned out to be quite the little chef. I won't delve into her repertoire, but she has several dishes that she has perfected nicely. Today she decided to try her hand at Mr. Tom Turkey. Having transferred it from the freezer to the fridge two days ago, we had no idea that his innards would still be frozen. Never having had my hand up the rump of a turkey, I assumed it would be just like a chicken, and told her to remove all the loose stuff inside. (Actually I told her to "curette the walls") Well, the loose stuff inside was still pretty much frozen and stuck to the walls of the... cavity. There was also this funky little plastic looking thing that we figured was a handle to facilitate easy removal of the innards. (No, it wasn't a fancy little pop up "I'm done" thing.) Well, the plastic thing broke with the innards still hiding inside the... cavity. After about the third question about turkey-cookin, I told Whitney she was just gonna hafta call her Nany, who has cooked many a turkey for many a family gathering. Well, Whitney had Tom Turkey juice up to her elbows, so I dialed the number. Now, here we are, two turkey-cooking-virgins, calling our elders on the phone to solicit culinary advice. Can you believe that they LAUGHED at us??? Yes ma'am... Nany and Pawpoo both just hooted like hyenas when we asked how to cook a turkey. And I thought Nany would split a gut when Whitney asked her about that "bony spine-looking thing" that simply would NOT come out of the.... cavity. After much laughing and poking all manner of fun at us for not knowing a giblet from a gizzard (and I still don't), they instilled enough confidence for Whitney to have another go at that neck-thing. We had to cut them off at the pass, though, when they started talking about giblet gravy. BLECH!!!!! These giblets and gizzards are going straight in the garbage!!! No gravy from this turkey!! When the spiney looking thing still wouldn't budge, another phone call to Pawpoo assured me that it really would be okay to just cook it with the neck in there and pull it out later. (It's a turkey... they taste like cardboard to start with. What's a little neck juice gonna do to hurt it?) A few minutes later, Whitney came in here with her arms raised in victory and doing a little happy dance. She got the neck out. And the giblets. And the gizzards. (Eww... now that just sounds soooo appetizing i think i'll just go eat me some turkey. Oh wait, it's still raw. )

Mr. Tom Turkey has been sprinkled with salt and pepper, wrapped in the finest of tin foil from the dollar store, and now sits gutless and neckless in the warmth of my oven, where he will roast for eight or nine hours. Or three or four. I don't remember what Nany said. Maybe Whitney will remember.

I won't be eating any of the turkey my ownself, but if this is the last post you see for a while, it may be because I'm tending to those who did. Ha! Actually, I have every confidence that if any turkey can be made to taste good, then Whitney can do it. I admire her courage to try. Maybe I can be like her when I grow up. Happy Thanksgiving Eve!!!

UPDATE I know you're all wondering how Mr. Tom Turkey fared during his stay in my oven. I think he turned out beautifully, and he smells pretty darn good too. Way to go, Whitney!!!

The Candy Store

When I was a little girl, there used to be a candy store in Bogart. Seems to me that maybe it was a cement block building with a tin roof that said "See Rock City". But that may only be a memory concocted in my imagination. I have no recollection of ever going inside The Candy Store. But I do remember that when my Mama Lorene and Pappy would come to visit, we would sometimes ride down to The Candy Store. Pappy would go inside for a few moments, and return with enough candy to put us all in a diabetic coma for weeks. Boxes of soft peppermint sticks, hard pepperment sticks, the tri-colored coconut planks, and my all-time favorite... hard sticks of cloves candy. Why was this my favorite? Well, for starters, it tasted yummy and lasted forever in my mouth, but it also brought on sweet memories of Christmas! At our house it wasn't Christmas without cloves candy, and every year my grandparents made sure that we had several boxes to enjoy throughout the season.

Some childhood favorites never die, and to this day, my favorite hard candy is the cloves stick candy. The Candy Store was ultimately closed and fell to ruin, and it became difficult to find the old-fashioned hard stick candy. Remember, this was back in the olden days before super malls and Wal Mart. Nowadays you can usually find it at Cracker Barrel, but last year our local store had the nerve to sell out of it before I got my Christmas stash. Not to be denied this year, last weekend I went into the store, and spotted the jar containing the cloves (which was conspicuously emptier than all the other flavors). I thought I'd browse about the store for a bit, but wasn't willing to risk someone else coming along and buying up the candy, so instead of a shopping basket, I just grabbed the entire jar and walked around the store until I was ready to check out. A nice girl behind the counter offered to go to "the back" to get me my own personal box of 80-count sticks. I contemplated for a moment, then said "Sure, go ahead", justifying the decision by thinking that I'd attach a little stick to my Christmas gifts this year as an added festive decorative touch, (but knowing deep down inside that even 80 sticks of candy probably wouldn't last til Christmas!). She returned from "the back" and said that there were three boxes, but they were "on the manager's desk", and she could only assume he was holding them for someone. Evidently someone else besides me has fond memories and a taste for the spicy sticks! So, I didn't get my 80-count box of candy. But I was able to count 30 beautiful, shiny, unbroken sticks from the jar in the store, and I walked away happy. (At ten sticks for a dollar, it was a cheap piece of happy!!) Perhaps they'll get another shipment in before Christmas and I'll get to tie them onto my (very few) packages this year. But if you're getting a gift from me, don't hold your breath. You'll probably never see that stick of candy. After all, it's MY memory of The Candy Store, and YOU probably wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much as me anyway. Maybe you'd settle for a simple candy cane? In the meantime, I'll ration myself, and enjoy the nostalgia of holding the candy in my mouth, savoring the flavor, remembering trips to The Candy Store with my grandparents, and childhood Christmases with boxes of cloves candy.

Are Opinions Changing?

As more and more information comes to light about Obamacare, I can't help but wonder if uninsured citizen supporters are beginning to question their support. No doubt, "we the people" will never know what is contained within the nearly 2,000-page document. How could we possibly ever know... if the members of congress, those who will vote, do not themselves know? By their own admission, few of them have attempted to muddle through it... and those who have, I'd venture to say, have no idea what they read. Healthcare is such a multi-faceted entity, that even those of us in the industry for decades have difficulty fathoming the far reach of each element. As always, I am a firm supporter of FIXING the problems of health care, as opposed to re-vamping the entire system. Over the past year, I have posted many arguments to support my thoughts, and I won't repeat them here. What I'm wondering, though, is if any of the citizens who have staunchly supported The Bill, are beginning to waver in their support. Prior to the current economic downturn and increased unemployment, the percentage of uninsured in America wasn't that large a number. The rise in number of those who have lost jobs has, unfortunately, increased the number of uninsured. (Most of us are only a pink slip away from being uninsured... myself included.) In trying to understand how this Plan is designed to help those who need it most, I've become more confused than ever. There are those who are uninsured because they do not work. Why are they not already on Medicaid? Could it be that they do not qualify for Medicaid because there is no reason that they shouldn't be working in the first place? And make no mistake... there are thousands of people in my own town who are Medicaid recipients who are as able-bodied as myself to be working, so I'm just not understanding why any legitimately-disabled person is not insured. But that has always been a problem in our society, hasn't it? So those people encompass a certain percentage of the uninsured. Then there are people who do work, whose employers do not offer insurance benefits, as well as self-employed, freelance, or contract workers. They are faced with the choice of paying exorbitant premiums for non-group coverage, or simply remaining uninsured. I would imagine those two demographic groups comprise the majority of the uninsured. Without, of course, including the number of illegal residents, who in my opinion, shouldn't be factored in AT ALL in the group of uninsured Americans. They are not Americans, yet they place a gigantic burden on our health care system, and they are included in the numbers that the President uses when presenting the percentage of uninsured. ....ahh... but that's another topic for another day.... So, here we have the two groups of citizens who comprise the majority of uninsured: Those who, for whatever reasons, DO NOT work, and those who DO work but cannot afford healthcare premiums. Under Obamacare, everyone is going to be required to have insurance, or pay a fine. Now, those who DO NOT work, who cannot afford to pay for insurance now, STILL won't be able to afford insurance. Oh wait... they will be "given" a subsidy, so they can pay their premiums. Not sure of the logistics of that one yet, but nothing much will change for those folks. They will remain unemployed, and still won't contribute anything to society, yet they will have, without cost, the same health care that those of us who work (and pay premiums for) will have. Then there are those people who are hard workers, who pay their bills, who are productive citizens, yet can't afford coverage. Under the new plan, they will also be required to purchase insurance, or face a fine. What if they still can't afford the premiums? They will be fined. And don't kid yourself that the entire almost-four trillion dollar project will be paid for by insurance premiums. Oh no. It will be funded by taxes here, taxes there, taxes, taxes everywhere. The government can, and will, raise taxes anywhere they choose, to fund the insanity. So here we have a hard working young man and/or woman, trying to provide for their family, who now will be forced to pay an insurance premium (amount set by the government), or face a fine. And there's every possibility that they STILL won't be able to afford the premium because they are being taxed to death at every turn in the road. How will this help? Chances are, they'll be worse off than before. I am afraid that not only are we who opposed the plan in for a bum rap, but also the uninsured workers in this country who have supported the plan. I believe the empty promises they were fed are going to end up biting them in the butt... and it will be a bite felt 'round the country, as we all are going to suffer. The winners here? Those who will continue a life of subsidy... housing, food, health, free cell phones, etc. Lest I seem insensitive, I remind you that I'm a very compassionate person to those in need. My profession has afforded me the unpleasant opportunity to see people of all walks of life with true need, and dire circumstances. I've seen much heartbreak and true hardship. For the infirm and disabled, I am all for lending them a hand. For those who work hard and contribute to society, hats off.. and give credit where credit is due. Children and the elderly, who have no control over their circumstances, should be top of the list for receiving health care. Working-age adults who are too lazy to work??? Deserve no subsidy at all. They are a burden to our society and should not be given handouts, while you and I must punch a clock to fund our grocery bill and utilities. I just don't believe that Obamacare is the answer, and certainly not the ONLY answer. As I have written in the past, the 400 billion dollar a year fraud in Medicare and Medicaid could quite adequately fund healthcare for the uninsured. Use that money to fund public health departments. Subsidize one year of medical school in exchange for one year of service (during residency) in public health. Hire independent (not ACORN-type) agencies to determine on a case-by-case basis, Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security Disability benefits for recipients. There just has to be another way.

And in the meantime, I wonder how uninsured working people who have supported Obamacare are feeling now? Unfortunately, even if they change their minds and oppose it, their voices won't be heard any more than mine. The decision is being made by people who are not like you and me. People who will not be directly affected by the change. I have yet to hear one member of congress who is willing to be under the Obamacare umbrella. That's because they know it's nothing but a naked metal frame umbrella... the fabric of protection having been eaten and rotted away in the form of taxes here, taxes there, taxes, taxes everywhere.

Mission: Little Green Machine

A new gadget has found its way to the top of my Must Have List. You may remember (but probably not... who remembers such a sillly thing as this??...) last year my favorite Black Friday purchase was a Bissell steam mop. That little baby has rocked my world. Now, you'll never hear my name associated with June Cleaver or Martha Stewart with regard to... well, with regard to anything... but especially with housekeeping talents. (I'd much rather play with Martha's line of scrapbook products than cook with her kitchenware or clean with her cleaning products.) But, oh! How I love my Bissell Steam Mop. Especially with two toddlers who are very messy eaters, and three adults who somehow seem to track and then grind into the floor every form of dirt imaginable. My once-beautiful, ceramic tile kitchen floor is constantly abused. But thanks to the steam mop, it is cleaned to perfection with very little effort (which is the BEST part!!!).

Now I have discovered another little green Bissell gadget that is desperately needed at The 409. A little mini upholstery-carpet cleaner thingy!!! Not only has my poor kitchen floor suffered greatly under the extra traffic, but the carpet throughout my house has taken an especially hard hit. I've had it professionally cleaned twice within a year, and once myself using Mary Kay's Monster Bissell Carpet Cleaner (which works great but will absolutely wear you out and took me all day!) Warning: After the first professional cleaning of your carpet, count on it getting nasty ten times faster than it did the first time. I guess cleaning it also strips the Stain Master stuff off of it. Anyway, the spots on my carpet have become a great source of anxiety for me, and vacuuming just puts me in a bad mood. But vacuum often we must, because Corey is still in the Billy Goat phase, and will put any and everything into his mouth. Including crumbs, bits of paper, yard debris, or whatever other foriegn objects happen to be loose on the carpet, so I'm just resigned to be in a perpetual bad-carpet-mood. So... whatever money I can find behind the sofa cushions, in the washing machine, at the bottom of my purse, in the sock drawer, etc. will be put in a jar in hopes of saving enough to pick up this handy dandy little power cleaner. And I'm hoping for another big sale at Kohl's and some coupons!

The reason I know that Kohl's carries this item is because I saw it my own personal self last night. I ran in to check on some 50% off Christmas jammies for the children. It was to be a quick dash in the store. My trip to Athens was for the sole purpose of going in Lowes and exchanging some shelves (yes... THOSE shelves, the ones I had such a hard time hanging) for the longer version. I was dressed in a long, comfy sweatshirt, sloppy jeans with paint stains, the ugliest shoes in the history of the world, and I hadn't shampooed my hair yet. I wouldn't be seeing anyone in Lowes, right? And if I did, I could point to my shelves and say I was in the middle of a construction project. BUT... then I decided I'd sneak into Kohl's. And wouldn't you know... I'd run into my (forever) mother-in-law and (forever) sister-in-law!!! As always, so nicely dressed and lovely... and here I am looking like the Blob-Slob From The Black Lagoon. Oh, and did I forget to mention that I had spilled ketchup all down the front of my long, comfy sweatshirt???

So how come it always happens. When I think I can sneak out without seeing anyone that I run into ex-boyfriends, family members who are way more dressed up than me, the bosslady from work, the pastor... you know... folks that you would prefer not see you looking that way? Well, I guess the moral of the story is, if I'm are too ashamed for my friends to see me looking so... ummm.... "comfy casual" we'll call it... then I guess I'd best just stay at home. Or at least change my clothes.

All was not a total loss, though, because I discovered The Little Green Machine. Maybe once I purchase one, I should use it on myself before I go out looking like that again....

And I really enjoyed talking to my SIL about how much better things would be if WE could be the boss of everything... and we discussed to such great depth and detail that by the time we finished, Lowes had barricaded the parking lot and shut the place down before I could exchange my shelves. How rude. Oh well... that just means another trip to town. I promise I'll clean up better before I go. And then of course I won't see a soul. But if you do see me on Friday, please tell me how gorgeous I look. And drop a few coins on the ground so I can find them and add them to my jar. I must have that Little Green Machine!!!

Trunk or Treat

Boo!!!! Goblins, Transformers, Princesses... Oh My!! It was a cool and rainy, then turning cold and rainy night for our annual Trunk or Treat at FBC Statham. Though the clouds never really broke, the rain did stop for a while early in the evening. Hundreds of Halloween visitors went from (car) trunk to trunk in search of frightful treats. I do believe they get cuter (and uglier...in a Halloweenish kind of way) every year! This year The Transformers was a hot costume, along with Disney princesses, little fairies, lady bugs, ninjas, pirates, and of course the scary, gross monster faces. My own little munchkins were by far the best thing about being a Georgia fan today.

This is probably my most favorite community ministry that we have at church. Bible School is great, Awana is awesome, but this is something that the parents of the children really get into as well, as they experience it along with their children, as opposed to just dropping them off and picking them up later. The great majority of them are always so polite. (I love to hear parents teaching their children to say "Thank You"!) This year we had twenty-something cars, many of them all decked out with fall and Halloween decorations, giving out yummy treats. Someone is always there to hand out a pamphlet that highlights our children's ministries, and church information, in hopes of bringing families with no church home into our family. Before heading out for more haunting the streets of our fair little town, we invite them to come by for hot dogs and drinks. This year we cooked around 1000 hot dogs for our spooky little guests and parents. I suppose because of the weather, and wanting to finish trick or treating and get home where it was warm again, we didn't have as many takers at the hot-dog stand as we had hoped. There were lots of dogs left over, but there's a concert tomorrow night, and we'll just heat 'em up and serve 'em afterwards. My other favorite thing about this event is how the church folks, people of all ages, come together and work as a team. There were maybe 40 or so adults there, young and old alike, working in the kitchen, handing out treats in the rain, serving food, cleaning up... how much fun is that!!! I do wish the weather had been nicer, not only for those of us who worked out in the rain, but especially for the kids (and their parents) who look so forward to enjoying the tradition of going from trunk to trunk, then from house to house, in search of the treats of the season. Even so, any time we can serve Jesus, even wet, soggy, and cold, and show kindness to His children, it can't be considered anything less than successful. Happy Halloween, everyone! BOO!!


PHOTOS: {I always forget and upload my pictures in the order I want you to view them. Which means the ones I want first end up on the bottom. Oh well. And if you've already seen these on Facebook, they're the same ones, so you don't hafta look unless you just want to see our beautiful people again! Sometimes you can click on the photos to enlarge, but it never seems to work for me. Give it a try and let me know if it works.}



First up are photos of pumpkins carved by the husband of one of our former members, Shari Holland. She had these posted on her Facebook from Trunk or Treat at her church, and I just love them and asked if I could share the phots. She said it takes him several days to do these, and I can certainly see why. There were four or five different ones, but these two were my favorites. Following Shari's pumpkin pictures are photos of my grandchildren, who didn't stay to Trunk or Treat with us, but stopped by for a few minutes on the way to Whitney's dad's to meet some friends and go out haunting in Oconee County. Then you'll finally see pictures of our event! Thanks for looking!!

Leyland and Mary

Corey

Leyland

CathyB - 1, Gremlins 947,613

I'm delighted to report that I have outsmarted the gremlins. Well, maybe not outsmarted them, they are still way ahead on the scoreboard, but I found the cards. The silly gremlins hid them in a little storage box thing that I don't even recall OPENING when I was at the church, much less putting the cards in there. But alas, I found the storage thingy underneath some other supplies, and as a last resort, I checked inside. After all, it was the only place I hadn't looked. And as I said, I don't even remember opening it, so I wasn't expecting them to be there. Yipee!! The gremlins did a great job hiding them from me, but at least they're not gone forever. So you can stop checking the hiding places of your gremlins for my missing cards. My gremlins didn't mail them to your gremlins.

It was fun, crafting in my room for the first time last night. I needed to finish up the cards, so I pulled out my card table, took a seat in my comfy rocker/glider, and had all my things right at hand. I think I'll do a lot more crafting now that I have everything out here.

I had only done the outtside of the cards, so I needed something on the inside. I had a cute little rubber stamp with some trick-or-treaters that I used for the inside, and heat-embossed the image. I attached the insert to the card using ribbon with spider webs on it. A year or so ago I found a guy on e-bay who makes personalized stamps for really cheap. I chose one that says "Handmade by CathyB" with two little kitties on it. (How perfect was that?? The kitties, I mean!) I heat embossed that on the back of the card, black-on-black. Here's what the cards look like: (Maybe you can click to enlarge... sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't)

So today the cards are going out in the mail, hopefully to be receieved in time for Halloween by my special little ladies. Now it's time to start planning for their Thanksgiving and Christmas treats!!!

Gremlins Underfoot

Once again, the gremlins are busy at The 409. Absconding with random items. They take much pleasure in causing me distress when I can’t find what I’m looking for. No item is exempt from their frivolous games. One day it’s my car keys. That’s their favorite. The next day it’s the thingy I used to poof up my hair. It might be the can opener, or my mascara. For the past several days I have searched in vain for my stud-finder. (No, not some magic tool to find me a good-lookin’ man, but the little electronic thing that locates the 2 x 4s behind my walls.) I had it a few months ago while working on a project, and now it is gone. Once it was the USB cable to connect my small printer to my laptop. Every day is a new adventure for the gremlins. Today is no exception.

Each holiday season, I try to make little treats and cards for a special group of ladies at my church. It’s an elderly, but lively bunch, and they are such a joy to me, and an inspiration to so many, both in the church and the community. I have known a few of them ever since I can remember, and have been blessed to know the others for the past several years. It all started a few years ago when I decided that every girl needs to be remembered on Valentine’s Day. That year I got a list of all the widowed or never-married “girls” in my church, and sent them all a card. It was just a tiny little project, but I had no idea the impact it would make. Each one was so thrilled to have been remembered, that I sort of unofficially adopted the idea as an ongoing project for the ladies in Mr. Tommy’s Sunday School class. These ladies are the oldest… um, let’s don’t say that, let’s say WISEST ladies in my church, and they just get a kick out of being remembered by someone as young as myself. [cough.. sputter…]

Last Friday night was Girls’ (Scrapbook) Night Out. I was so proud of myself for carrying the smallest load of supplies that I have ever carried. Just two bags. [Well, four, if you count the two huge bags of scrapbook magazines that I carried to share. Hopefully Ken got the message to put those not adopted into the yard-sale pile. Otherwise they are still on a cart in the fellowship hall… oops…] Anyway, my project de jour on Friday was to make Halloween cards for The Girls. Took me eight hours to make eight stinkin’ cards. Well, to be honest, the entire eight hours wasn’t solely dedicated to the making of cards. There was the Set Up Factor, i.e. organizing my tools of the trade, my paper, embellishments, adhesives, etc., into a workable area. (And then packing them away again when the evening was done.) This in itself is a rather time-consuming project. (Yes, my scrapbooking friends are right… I am totally anal…) There was the Socializing Element… the talking with friends, looking at their tools/paper/embellishments/adhesives, etc., examining their projects de jour. And then of course there is the Eating Factor. The Eating Factor is an ongoing part of the evening, with multiple breaks throughout, spent enjoying a snack, a bowl of Marie’s chili, a leftover Subway sandwich for dinner, and a nice cup o’ Joe. The most daunting part of the project, though, is the Design Factor. I had in my mind exactly how I wanted to design the cards, I had all the paper, cutting tools, etc. needed to create the card. Well, wouldn’t you know it… the picture I had in my mind was nothing like the finished product. So it was back to the drawing board. Much time was spent with my elbows propped on the table, face resting in my palms, looking over my stash with glazed eyes. Finally I decided on a design, and spent a large amount of time at Debbie’s Cricut, cutting out haunted houses, ghosts and bats. I Cuttlebugged and embossed backgrounds of pumpkins on vines. All that was left was to assemble the cards and add a few sparkles (girl’s gotta have some bling) and the cards were complete. I packed up my small stash of stuff, cleaned up my mess and was home by midnight. All in all, it was quite a successful evening, and I was relatively happy with my creation, even if it didn’t end up like I had originally designed it in my head.

This morning, I searched through my desk drawer, rifling through all the receipts, writing instruments, one-armed glasses that I just can’t bring myself to throw away, various and sundry office supplies and gum wrappers, and finally located my postal stamps. Time to get those babies in the mail. I’m ready. Just need to put a few finishing touches on the cards during my lunch break, stuff them in the envelopes, and have them out in my mailbox in time for the postman to pick up this afternoon.

Now where did I put those cards? I’m sure I put them in the plastic bin that has all my fall embellishments. Nope.. not in there. Not stuck in between the stack of paper I used either. Not in the tote bag used to transport all my stuff. Whitney climbed in the attic to double check the tote bag for me. They are nowhere to be found. My cards are gone. They have totally disappeared. The gremlins must have liked them and wanted to send them out to their gremlin friends. You know, the ones that live in YOUR house. So be on the lookout for a hand-made Halloween card signed by The Gremlins at The 409.

The Pitter Patter Of Little Feet

No doubt, you expect this post to be about the pitter-pattering of my sweet grandbabies’ feet. And believe, me, that is a sweet sound. But for the past several days, the pitter-pattering I’ve been hearing is not from within the walls of my home, rather the roof over my head. The noise is coming, not from sweet baby feet, but from little tiny squirrel feet. You’d think they could romp effortlessly over the shingles without much noise. Evidently, the squirrels who live at The 409, are as avid eaters as we human occupants. Fat little boogers, they must be, to make such a racket. Yesterday I had to retrieve something from my car, and as I walked back inside, I noticed one of the varmints perched precariously at the edge of the roof, scavenging the gutter for treasured acorns. There are thousands of acorns on the ground. I wonder if the soggy ones in the gutter have a better flavor. Gourmet acorns, if you will. They must be pretty yummylicious, because the little fella kept diggin’ around for the longest time. Squirrels are actually cute little critters, and I rather enjoy watching them play. They chase each other across the yard and through the branches of trees, leaping from limb to limb. Though their antics seem a bit dangerous, I’ve never seen one hit the ground. They always manage to grab hold of a limb and live to play another day. I never particularly minded having them around, but a few summers ago, I bought myself some nice Spanish-moss-lined wire hanging flower basket thingies. And some high-priced Wave petunias to go inside them. Just gotta love those drooping, bountiful blooms. And of course only the best of potting soil would do. I was so excited to hang them on the front porch of my new (to me) house. They were beautiful!! “Were” being the operative word here. Once the squirrels discovered my freshly planted flowers, in the freshly purchased Miracle Gro potting soil, they decided to throw a squirrel party. Not only did they bury their winter treats in my hanging baskets, they took dirt baths in them. Have you ever seen a squirrel take a dirt bath? Here’s a visual for you: They begin by digging a little hole in the dirt, then diving nose first into the hole. Somehow using their furry little arms and legs, they then curl themselves into a ball and roll over and over in the dirt. My Miracle Gro dirt. Scattering it all over my front porch. My poor Wave petunias were the true casualties of this party, left to wither on the porch, in the bushes, or stubbornly hanging on for dear life inside the basket. It was a hanging basket massacre. I was livid. My neighbor Alex laughed and laughed. He had watched me carefully measure the soil and color-coordinate the petunias, and meticulously seat them in the baskets… and warned me about the squirrels. “No”, I assured him, “The squirrels won’t be able to get to my baskets.” Well. I guess he got the last laugh after all. Squirrels are mystical, magical creatures, they are, and like a mouse or a snake, can get anywhere their little squirrely hearts want to go. And this time they wanted to get in my baskets. I straightaway went to the store and bought some stuff called Critter Gone, or something of that nature. Hmph. Just a box of glorified moth balls is all that was. Works pretty good though, as long as one doesn’t mind one’s beautiful flowers smelling like moth balls. But back to the squirrels at hand… I’m sure these must be the ancestors of the flower-basket squirrels, intent on punishing me for putting a stop to the mutilation of the aforementioned baskets. This current family of squirrels is enjoying the crisp fall weather, cavorting about in my yard from tree to tree, and just doing what squirrels do. Their favorite place to play, though, is on my rooftop, scampering about sounding like a herd of cattle. Honestly, if it were Christmas time, I’d think it was “the prancing and pawing of each little hoof” that I am hearing. Oh well… I guess a little squirrel fun isn’t too bad. At least they sleep at night, and at least they’re just on the roof, and not in the attic. Ummm… Alex, you DID put those screens over my attic vents, didn’t you???

Garden Snakes Can Be Dangerous!

Snakes also known as Garter Snakes (Thamnophissirtalis ) can be dangerous. Yes, grass snakes, not rattlesnakes. Here's why.A couple in Sweetwater , Texas , had a lot of potted plants. During a recent cold spell, the wife was bringing a lot of them Indoors to protect them from a possible freeze. It turned out that a little green garden grass snake was hidden in one of the plants. When it had warmed up, it slithered out and the wife saw it go under the sofa. She let out a very loud scream. The husband (who was taking a shower) ran out into the living room naked to see what the problem was. She told him there was a snake under the sofa. He got down on the floor on his hands and knees to look for it.. About that time the family dog came And cold-nosed him on the behind. He thought the snake had bitten him, so he screamed and fell over on the floor. His wife thought he had had a heart attack, so she covered him up, told him to lie still and called an ambulance. The attendants rushed in, would not listen to his protests, loaded him on the stretcher, and started carrying him out. About that time, the snake came out from under the sofa and the Emergency Medical Technician saw it and dropped his end of the stretcher. That's when the man broke his leg and why he is still in the hospital. The wife still had the problem of the snake in the house, so she called on a neighbor who volunteered to capture the snake. He armed himself with a rolled-up newspaper and began poking under the couch. Soon he decided it was gone and told the woman, who sat down on the sofa in relief. But while relaxing, her hand dangled in between the cushions, where she felt the snake wriggling around. She screamed and fainted, the snake rushed back under the sofa. The neighbor man, seeing her lying there passed out, tried to use CPR to revive her. The neighbor's wife, who had just returned from shopping at the grocery store, saw her husband's mouth on the woman's mouth and slammed her husband in the back of the head with a bag of canned goods, knocking him out and cutting his scalp to a point where it needed stitches. The noise woke the woman from her dead faint and she saw her neighbor lying on the floor with his wife bending over him, so she assumed that the snake had bitten him. She went to the kitchen and got a small bottle of whiskey, and began pouring it down the man's throat. By now, the police had arrived. Breathe here...They saw the unconscious man, smelled the whiskey, and assumed that a drunken fight had occurred. They were about to arrest them all, when the women tried to explain how it all happened over a little garden snake! The police called an ambulance, which took away the neighbor and his sobbing wife. Now, the little snake again crawled out from under the sofa and one of the policemen drew his gun and fired at it. He missed the snake and hit the leg of the end table. The table fell over, the lamp on it shattered and, as the bulb broke, it started a fire in the drapes. The other policeman tried to beat out the flames, and fell through the window into the yard on top of the family dog who, startled, jumped up and raced into the street, where an oncoming car swerved to avoid it and smashed into the parked police car. Meanwhile, neighbors saw the burning drapes and called in the fire department. The firemen had started raising the fire ladder when they were halfway down the street. The rising ladder tore out the overhead wires, put out the power, and disconnected the telephones in a ten-square city block area (but they did get the house fire out). Time passed! Both men were discharged from the hospital, the house was repaired, the dog came home, the police acquired a new car and all was right with their world. A while later they were watching TV and the weatherman announced a cold snap for that night. The wife asked her husband if he thought they should bring in their plants for the night. And that's when he got up, packed his bags and left her.