Greetings From The Beach!!

Greetings from The Ritz!! We’ve had three beautiful days so far. On the way over Thursday night I decided to call Whitney and check on things. My phone was nowhere to be found! After a thorough search through my purse, I remembered that I had last used it driving home from work- and laid it on the front seat. Grrrrr... Not to worry, mom has her cell phone- except she forgot her charger!! A fine pair we are! Oh well, Whitney has been calling the house phone and keeping in touch regularly. I’ve missed talking to DJ and The Snoops, but I’m surviving okay. I was a little worried about an internet connection, but finally got that working too. So- all is well at The Ritz and life is good. Yesterday morning found me in an extremely lazy mood and nursing a headache, so I stayed inside while Mom and Dad spent the day on the beach. It was fabulous to simply lounge about and watch movies (between naps). After dinner we took our chairs and sat on the beach until well after dark. Ahhhh….This is the life!! It was fairly crowded today, probably more so than I’ve seen it over here. There are lots of cute little tykes over here, and I can’t wait to bring Leyland. She would have a great time. I really miss the little munchkins and can’t wait to see them. Dad brought some airplanes and windmills, and business has been good. He sold all the planes that he had, and only had a few more windmills left, but has made several more. Before I left, my boss asked me if I was bringing my bikini. When I told him I was, he laughed and said “I’d like to see that!” Well, here ya go, Dr. M. Me in my bikini. (Thirty five years ago!) Ha!

Doin The Mary Dance!!!

A few weeks ago Mary was here for the weekend, and was being her usual cute, sweet little munchkin self. Something or other made her really happy, and she started doing this little dance and saying “Uhh Huh… Oh Yeah…” . It was so cute. That’s her new thing, and whenever she is happy, she’ll break out into the little dance. A week or so later, we were having dinner while Leyland was in her play yard watching Elmo. At one point we heard her singing something we didn’t recognize, and something that didn’t belong in the Elmo movie. As we listened closer, we could very distinctly hear her saying “UhhhHuuuh… Oh Yeeeeah….” Oh My, we just about choked on dinner. We peeked over the banister, and sure enough, she was dancing!! What an irresistibly adorable, precious little girl!!! Now if you could only see me right now. It’s 27 minutes until quittin time, and as soon as I get to Mom and Dad’s house, we’re off to the Ritz! Watch for news from Myrtle Beach from Yours Truly. UHHHHH HUHHHH…… OH YEAH…..!!!!!!!!!!

Approaching Labor Day

A curvy mountain road winds it’s way along the shores of Lake Burton, crosses the river below the dam, then ambles along beside the sleepy waters of Seed Lake. Just past the dam, tucked into the woods on the side of a mountain, stands an icon of my childhood. Every Labor Day weekend that I can remember from early childhood to my late thirties was spent within (and without) the walls of this place, known simply as “The Mountains”. The Dunahoo clan, along with various and sundry family friends, would gather at Uncle Bill and Aunt Carolyn’s cabin in north Georgia. Labor Day weekend marks the end of the DNR trout stocking in the area streams, and the menfolk were just crazy about standing in the icy waters, reeling in those rainbow trout. What a fun family tradition! Each respective branch of the clan would arrive on Friday evening, sleeping bags, tackle boxes and junk food in tow. The menfolk would sit on the porch and dutifully thread their fishing line, making sure the drag was set just so. Sleeping bags were arranged meticulously on the front porch, each fellow having his own favorite spot in which to catch a few winks. Up well before dawn, they’d set off for the upper reaches of the Tallulah River and engage in a friendly competition to see who could catch the most fish. “The Big Hole”, “The Bridge” and “The Bend” denoted some of their favorite spots. The women, on the other hand, stayed awake most of the night talking and catching up. (Back in those days, it was long-distance to talk by phone- no toll-free cell phones!) Next morning they would grumble profusely when the menfolk made too much noise as they left for the river. Children were scattered here and yon, cousins delighted to be together for a weekend of adventure. Maybe we’d start out in one room, sleeping with one cousin, and end up crawling in the bed with another cousin or our mom. Saturday was a very busy day! There were several must-do activities, and though we repeated them year after year, we never grew bored with them. We would get up and have our milk and cereal, get dressed, then Go To Town. “Town” was about 20 miles away over curvy mountain roads, and there would usually be some kind of festival that included sidewalk sales and hot dogs at the fire department. When we were really good, we sometimes even got an ice cream at the drugstore. My favorite store was an Ace Hardware-type store that carried fascinating outdoor wind chimes, and other unusual items. After returning to the cabin for lunch and a short rest, it was off to climb and walk across the dam. The back side of “our” mountain forms part of the shoreline of Lake Burton, and the dam is just down the street. Years ago there were no security issues, and one could climb up a steep rocky path and actually walk across the dam. When I was a very young, I was almost afraid to breathe- the cold, deep waters on one side of the dam posing unknown dangers, and on the other a very, very long drop to the tiny river below. Arriving back home safely, we kids would venture down the street to the “rock quarry”. This favorite play spot was not a rock quarry at all, rather the fascinating result of the DOT using dynamite when the road was built many years ago to blast the rock inside the mountain. It scares me to death now to remember how we climbed about those rocks, cliffs, and ledges like little monkeys. No Fear. It was a quite impressive formation, and one year we were furious that the Army was using our fortress for a rappelling training ground, thus barring our play. The last time I saw the rock quarry it was so overgrown with foliage and trees that you could hardly see it. Barely visible was the very top perch, and I shudder to think of climbing there. Next, a steep climb down the pasture in front of the cabin would take us to the boathouse and dock on the quiet banks of Seed Lake, still just a river at this point. Quiet, that is, until the siren sounded and they opened the gates of the dam. Then the water would pass by with a swiftness that belied its strength and power. No swimming allowed here! Later we would wander over to the creek to wade or catch crawdads. We were great explorers as we “climbed the mountain” via the stream. Time permitting, we would take a trip to Helen, a nearby tourist town with a Bavarian theme. Our final traditional adventure was a visit to the dental office. Around the turn of the century, Uncle Bill’s dad was a dentist and had an office in the basement. There we would carefully sit in the antique dental chair and look through the drawers at the archaic instruments. There were even a few sets of false teeth laying around after all these years. I can still remember the sterile smell of the room, and how we were so careful not to break anything. After the fish-fry on Saturday evening, we kids would play with poker chips and the adults would play pinochle long into the night. Families grow and change, and time brings about both blessings and unwelcome heartache. Our family is different now, and so many of them are no longer with us. It almost hurts to remember the times in the mountains because The Stainback Men are no longer here. We miss them so much. As another Labor Day weekend approaches, though, I can’t help but remember all the happy times spent at the cabin tucked away on the side of our mountain. And it hits me all over again how blessed I am to belong to this family.

Hail To The Chief!

How many Presidents can you remember in your lifetime? Born during the second term of the Eisenhower era, I have lived under the leadership of ten different Commanders-In-Chief. Though I remember neither his election nor his presidency, one of my earliest childhood memories is of my mother weeping in her rocking chair, feeding my new baby brother, watching the TV coverage of JFK’s assassination. Along with the rest of the nation, she was so very sad. I remember feeling sad too, though at that time, not really sure why. I vaguely remember LBJ, though admittedly, my sole impression of him at the time was that his wife and daughters had really strange names! Most Americans probably associate Viet Nam with LBJ, and I remember every week in Sunday School praying for “our boys in Viet Nam”, especially those from our hometown. Next, of course, came Nixon. Who can ever forget that! Those jowls flapping as he vehemently claimed “I am not a crook!” What I remember most about his presidency was growing so weary of the Watergate scandal, the interruption of perfectly good television for news coverage, and the disappointment most Americans felt. Gerald Ford’s term was at a time when I cared not one iota about what was going on in the world. I was in high school, and nothing mattered except my clothes, driving the car, my friends, and my boyfriends. The fall of 1976, though, found me eligible to vote for the first time. Seems that back in those days most folks around here were Democrats. Was it just a few short years ago that the Democrats were the conservatives and the Republicans the liberals? Maybe… maybe not… but I just can’t imagine my dear old grandma and my parents being liberals. At any rate, we just “were” democrats. My mom and my grandma used to work the election poll in my little town, and Mama Nay was very proud, when like a good little Georgia Girl, I asked for a Democratic ballot upon which to cast my first-ever presidential vote for Jimmy Carter. Why did I vote for Jimmy? Well, probably for the same reason that black folks will vote for Barak, and so many women voted for Hillary. It wasn’t about his platform, it was his popularity with the folks here in Georgia, despite his outrageous, beer-drinkin’ brother Billy. Jimmy was a good ol’ boy, and a Sunday School teacher to boot.. so he MUST be the better choice. Right? But then came the day when I walked into the polls and asked for a Republican ballot. The poll workers are not supposed to comment, advise, or campaign in any way, shape or form to the voting public. Nevertheless, when I stated “Republican”, Mama Nay pierced me with those chocolate brown eyes of hers and said “Mmmmm…Caaaaaathy!” I couldn’t help but smile. Mr. Carter lost the election that year to Mr. Reagan, and I felt like I had made the right choice to “switch” parties. Why did I choose to do so? Though I did examine his ideas and found them to my liking, it probably was not based so much on platform as on the fact that I just liked the guy and felt like he would make a good leader. And I guess I'm a sucker for rosy cheeks. My presidential roll-call of remembrance will end here, because it is Mr. Reagan that I wanted to write about in the first place. (And, in my very humble, politically-challenged opinion, the buck stops here anyway as far as great leadership is concerned.) A recent book find seems to have confirmed what I felt in my heart. One day while shopping at a local five-and-dime, I noticed a pile of new books with $1.00 price tags. For an avid reader such as myself, that’s better than a blue-light special at K-Mart or a 50% off coupon from Michaels. Rambling through the books, I found one titled A Different_Drummer by former deputy chief of staff Michael Deaver. I purchased the book, intending to thumb through it some day, fully expecting it to be about as interesting to me now as the Watergate hearings of the 70s. To my delight, I found this a very informative and endearing picture of Mr. Reagan, based on Mr. Deaver’s longstanding relationship with the Reagans. A might bit confusing at times, as he also served in the same capacity when Mr. Reagan was governor of California, and sometimes it was hard to tell if the story he was referring to was set in California or Washington. At any rate, though this was indeed a biased writing (Deaver and the Reagans were close personal friends for many years), it was a wonderful glimpse inside the kind heart and brilliant mind of a man who was sometimes seen as shy or elusive by the public. I learned many things about his leadership skills, and his handling of national matters. It was very impressive. I’m quite sure that there were less-than-positive sides to his presidency as well, that were omitted from this account, written by a dear friend. The fact that there was so much good about the man is refreshing, and that he maintained those qualities is quite remarkable- not only during his presidency, but throughout his remaining years. I wish that I could have met him and spent some time talking with him. Though I'm sure not without flaws, his integrity was amazing, and has left me again proud that I was a Reagan supporter. Unlike those late days of 1963 when I was sad but not sure why, I understood the cause of my sadness as I watched Nancy bidding a final goodbye to Ronnie in 2004, and like my mom saying goodbye to her favorite president, I found myself weeping as I said goodbye to mine. I imagine if I had “known” him better (by reading this book) before his death, it would have been even sadder still. So here’s one for the Gipper: My acknowledgement and appreciation for a job well done, and for your service to our country.

Welcome Hiddenhausen Nordrhein-Westfalen

Welcome, my German blogger-friend! Greetings from Georgia, USA! Please leave a note the next time you stop by! Ich hoffe, Sie haben ein guter Tag!! Gott segne dich!
CathyB

Puttin On The Ritz!

That's right- in just sixteen days, I'll be watching the clock all day- waiting for 5:00. Hopefully, 5:45 will find me behind the wheel on my way to the Ritz Treadwell at MB!!! (I still gotta find myself a pretty beach umbrella!) But first, another busy week! Please say prayers for Whitney, who will have her tubal surgery tomorrow morning. Now- if ANOTHER surprise baby comes along......... I love my two grandbabies more than anything, but my quiver is full, and I’ll be forever satisfied with just the two little angels to love and spoil. Sunday was a lovely day- it was homecoming at church. Our ladies’ ensemble did a couple of numbers, and though we escaped a shower of rotten tomatoes, we did have a few rough patches. Some of us are just a little more timid than others (yours truly refuses to hold a mic properly), but with time and lots of Grace, we’ll hit all our notes one of these days. At least Ken (our director) didn’t crawl in a hole somewhere in shame. I remember the old days when homecoming meant Sunday Meetin’ and Dinner On The Grounds. We used to fix our plate and head outside to eat on picnic tables. Fortunately, the building is large enough that we can eat inside where it is cool. It was great to see old friends. I indulged myself in a long, luxurious nap that afternoon, and enjoyed some sweet snuggle time with Leyland and Corey. Mondays are always crazy, as I work all day at the office, then from 6p to 11p at home for the hospital. Today is catch-up/get-ahead day at the office, since I’ll be with Whitney tomorrow, and I’ll work a few hours at home tonight as well. Gi-Gi (my mom) and Nany (Randy’s mom, Whit’s other grandma), are helping out with the babies tomorrow while we’re at the hospital, then Gi-Gi will help out on Thursday and Friday morning too. Honestly, I don’t know what we would do without them!! Whitney is so lucky to have all her grandparents still living, not to mention the babies having their great-grandparents! Okay, so this has been a tossed-up, mixed-up, mish-mash post about nothing much at all. Random Musings, if you will. I told you that would happen sometimes. In closing, I’d like to wish a very special Happy Birthday to Uncle Gene! Happy Birthday!! You are so loved!! And also to GDF- Happy Birthday! I hope you are happy and well.

Water, Water Everywhere- NOT!!!

It was a very pleasant, if quite warm, Saturday afternoon that found us gathering at The Lake for our belated July 4th family gathering. Most of the clan was in attendance, but we were missing a few faces (Jeff & Family, David & Family, and Debs & Family). We did have a newcomer, though. Isabella, or Izzy, as she is called. Izzy is a little Yorkie-Westie-doggie-person who's cute as a button. She lives with Sharon, Johnny & Ali, and I think is the New Boss Of The House. The most awful thing, though- there is no water in The Lake!!! Well, of course there is some water, but honestly I've never seen the level so low. I've heard them speak of it on the news for the past few years, and seen the film, but nothing quite prepared me for the barren wasteland that was once my favorite spot to swim. The Dock is out of the water by maybe 40-50 yards. I walked down to the water's edge, and looking back to the (former) shore line, I realized where I was standing should have been several feet over my head, had The Lake been full. Never again will I ski in these waters- now that I see all the stumps and debris that was hidden just beneath the surface. It was truly a sad sight. "Our" section of The Lake is located near Lake Lanier Islands, and also shares a cove with a state-operated campground. The shoreline to our left and on around the opposite cove is populated with fancy lake homes, most with docks of their own, and all manner of watercraft. Normally, on a Saturday afternoon, there are so many boats and jet skis in our cove that it's almost dangerous to venture out into the water. This Saturday there were hardly any boats at all. I hope the fresh-water mussels downstream are enjoying a happy, healthy, WET summer. Our little fishies upstream here in The Lake are probably getting more crowded each day. Hey- maybe I'll tell Gordon and David. As sad as the situation is, I guess it means more fish-per-cubic-foot of water. Maybe the fishin' will be good this fall. Just watch out for those stumps.

Oh, The Places We Will Go!

The captain stands firmly at the helm, and we face the storm head-on. For days we have tossed about as the ocean’s fury ravaged our ship . In the distance, a sliver of dawn gives us hope that we have survived yet another day of peril on the sea. Hours later, the weary captain turns the wheel over to the first mate and goes below for some much-needed rest. I look at my cousins, and tired of this adventure, we jump into the water and splash around for a while, before climbing back onto The Dock for our next maritime adventure. Sometimes we traveled around the world in 80 days, fighting off sharks and whales. We even saw Moby Dick once. Other times, we were the crew of luxurious ocean liners, catering to famous movie stars. We journeyed down the Nile, being careful to avoid the alligators, we navigated the Colorado River rapids, and nearly froze while traveling the Outside Passage of Alaska. We were captains of shrimp boats in the gulf, or rich passengers aboard a paddlewheel on the Mississippi. Sometimes we were famous skiers being pulled behind huge power boats. Other times we simply sat on The Dock and waited for our handsome husbands to return home from building the mansion just across the cove, which of course they were building for us, their beautiful wives, with only the finest of materials and all the latest luxuries. Of course, we had to "drive" the ski boat across the cove each day to carry them food and drink while they labored in the sun. Then there was the time that we were stranded on a deserted island, and The Dock was our life raft, built so carefully with our bare hands from palm fronds and jungle vines. We lived for weeks on nothing but coconut milk and pit-roasted fish, crabs and clams. Oh, The Places We Have Been!!

Then at the end of the day, tired and dirty, we would grab a bar of soap and hop in the lake for a quick bath. After dinner, upstairs we would go to engage in some serious board-game play before falling into bed. Lying still in the bed, it still felt like we were bobbing up and down on the waves. But sometimes, Aunt Joyce and Uncle Gene would let us venture down to The Dock at dusk, or even after dark. Then we were Navy SEALS, or James Bond, wearing black rubber suits, fighting evil to rescue the nuclear codes that had been stolen by the Russians, or rescuing hostages from underwater caves. Oh, The Adventures We Have Had!!

Ahhhh… these are some of my favorite childhood memories- the summer weeks that my cousins Sharon, Jeff, and I would spend At The Lake. We had no video games, no ipods, no cell phones, no computer games. Just a few cartoons on Saturday morning. But Saturday morning would find us not in front of the tube, but back at The Dock, errr.. our SHIP, jumping off into the blue oceans in faraway places to swim with the dolphins...

How sad is it that most kids today will never have those priceless experiences- those created from the depths of our imaginations and our sense of make-believe. I’d choose a voyage around the world with my fearless Captain Jeff and my crew-mate Sharon any day over an X-Box or MTV. Wouldn’t you?

Words of Wisdom- Australian Prime Minister

Forgive me as I continue to “borrow” the words of other people for my blog entries this week. For some reason, there is just not much motivation to write. I think I am just mentally exhausted, and SO looking forward to my stay at the Ritz (four weeks from today!!!!) that I’m just trying to make it through each day without too many major goofs, fulfilling my responsibilities and obligations, and keeping the kitchen floor somewhat clean. At least clean enough that you don’t walk out of your flops when you pass through. (translated- sticky, icky floor- remember there’s an almost-2-year-old eating in my kitchen every day!) That being said, here is a statement supposedly verified by Snopes, that was made by the prime minister of Australia. I hope it is true, and I wish we were a strong enough country (and just why AREN’T we????) to make such a bold statement. I submit to you the words of Prime Minister Howard:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Muslims who want to live under Islamic Sharia law were told on Wednesday to get out of Australia, as the government targeted radicals in a bid to head off potential terror attacks. Separately, Howard angered some Australian Muslims on Wednesday by saying he supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques.

Quote: 'IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or Leave It. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians. This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom. We speak mainly ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society, learn the language! Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, right wing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture. We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we ask is that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment with us. This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom, 'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'. If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Isn’t that GREAT!!! I love it! I wonder if any, and how many, of them will take heed and leave? I doubt conformity is an option for them. (As with any other borrowed words you may read in my blog, I won't swear by the authenticity, but if I post it, it's because I like it- valid or not!!)

Special thoughts and prayers go out today for Brittany, one of my ‘other’ daughters. Brutus, I hope you will have an easy recovery, and that this surgery will resolve your health issues. I love you!

Obama is Right!!

Bet you’re surprised to hear me say that, huh? I think one of the reasons he is so fetching is that most people will agree that America Needs Change! Oh boy, does America ever need change. While I am certain that, even with all her faults and problems, America is still the best place on the planet to call home, we do indeed need an Extreme Makeover, Government Edition. I am by no means an expert on politics. I wouldn’t even consider myself a novice. I am actually embarrassed at how much I do NOT know about how our government was intended to function, nor where we went wrong. I, and perhaps most people, would probably be sickened if I/we knew all the things that actually go on behind the closed doors of our elected officials. It makes me sad when I think of visiting those graves in Boston, that those brave men who pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor- sad that we have come so far from what they envisioned. It makes me sad to see where we have come in the name of “Progress”. Or “change”, if you will. I received an e-mail this morning that caught my interest. I cannot verify the authenticity. But it doesn’t matter if Snopes validates it, or if some person just made it up. It is a very good read, and certainly food for thought. I know that I personally object to Sen. O as our Commander in Chief, for many reasons that I may or may not discuss in later posts. Without telling me who, what, when, where, how and most definitely why, his gospel of change raises neither excitement nor support from me, rather it raises doubt, suspicion and unrest. This supposed letter from a newspaper in Virginia helps me better define just what it is about this man that scares me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following letter appeared in Letters to the Editor in the Richmond Times Dispatch, Richmond, VA on July 7, 2008. Its well written and worth thinking about during this political season, though the USA is certainly not like Cuba in the late 1950's.Bill Rogerson

Beware Charismatic Men Who Preach 'Change'

Editor, Times-Dispatch: Each year I get to celebrate Independence Day twice. On June 30 I celebrate my independence day and on July 4 I celebrate America's. This year is special, because it marks the 40th anniversary of my independence. On June 30, 1968, I escaped Communist Cuba and a few months later I was in the United Sates to stay. That I happened to arrive in Richmond on Thanksgiving Day is just part of the story, but I digress. I've thought a lot about the anniversary this year. The election-year rhetoric has made me think a lot about Cuba and what transpired there. In the late 1950s, most Cubans thought Cuba needed a change, and they were right. So when a young leader came along, every Cuban was at least receptive. When the young leader spoke eloquently and passionately and denounced the old system, the press fell in love with him. They never questioned who his friends were or what he really believed in. When he said he would help the farmers and the poor and bring free medical care and education to all, everyone followed. When he said he would bring justice and equality to all, everyone said "Praise the Lord." And when the young leader said, "I will be for change and I'll bring you change," everyone yelled, "Viva Fidel!" But nobody asked about the change, so by the time the executioner' s guns went silent the people's guns had been taken away. By the time everyone was equal, they were equally poor, hungry, and oppressed. By the time everyone received their free education it was worth nothing. By the time the press noticed, it was too late, because they were now working for him. By the time the change was finally implemented Cuba had been knocked down a couple of notches to Third-World status. By the time the change was over more than a million people had taken to boats, rafts, and inner tubes. You can call those who made it ashore anywhere else in the world the most fortunate Cubans. And now I'm back to the beginning of my story. Luckily, we would never fall in America for a young leader who promised change without asking, what change? How will you carry it out? What will it cost America? Would we? Manuel Alvarez Jr.Sandy Hook, VA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Me again- Wow… I never thought about it THAT way! It really gives me a new perspective. All I can say about Obama’s pledge to change is “Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.”

Girls' Day & Night Out

Friday was great! First time in a while that our entire group met together for a crop. DJ, Delores and I took our stash down on Thursday night. Loading and unloading is quite a task, and it was a delightful change yesterday morning to have that chore out of the way. Now if we're completely honest, our crops are almost as much about eating as about scrapping, and this time was no exception. DJ and Del made spaghetti sauce, I made a salad (I wonder why they didn't want me to cook the sauce?!?) and others brought the rest of the fixins. At dinner time, the guys joined us and a grand feast was enjoyed by all. I did manage to bake some yummy peanut butter cookes, (from a mix of course, but yummy nonetheless), and while they were still warm, I smashed some Hershey Kisses into some of them and Reeces PB cups into the rest of them. MMM, MMM, MMM!!! Oh, and the scrapbooking- yes, that went well too. This time we had a printer on site which enabled us to do some journaling along the way. I don't know the collective total of pages completed, but I finished ten pages (five two-page LOs), I think DJ finished eight, a record for her! Barb finished 16. I'm not sure about Del, Tangela, Debbie or Marie. Needless to say, there was a whole lotta paper snippin going on. Who knew preserving memories could be such fun! Can't wait til next time!

An Amazing Discovery!

Those who know me know that I do not participate in the e-mail forwarding game. I love Jesus very much, and He knows that, even if I don’t forward the e-mail or return it to the person who sent it to me. I don’t have to forward an e-mail to eight people in eight seconds just so I can know who has a crush on me, or to see naked reindeer dance across my screen. I don’t need any body-part enhancements, nor do I believe that Bill Gates will send me a check for a thousand dollars if I forward this or that e-mail around the world. I normally don’t sign political (or otherwise) petitions and forward on. I know the breast cancer lady has walked across the information highway for many miles, but she stops at my address if you send her to me. DJ loves to send stuff (especially surveys) to me because she knows I won’t send them back, but I will occasionally fool her and send it back to just her. She already knows the answers to my questions, anyway. If I forward an e-mail to someone it is because I was blessed by it myself, thought it humorous or informative. It’s not because I think in four hours I will receive a windfall, or the fear that if I don’t forward it I will lose my job or my (daughter’s) dog will die. But there is the occasional one containing a very informative piece of information that deserves its own personal e-mail, or in this case, its own blog entry. Someone sent an e-mail to me (Marty, maybe?) about a product that we all have in our homes, and use on a regular basis. Aluminum Foil. Or Tin Foil, if you will. Have you ever pulled the entire roll out of the box while trying to unroll it? Have you ever cut your fingers on the little blade trying to stuff the roll back into the box? Well- this information is just for you. Go into your kitchen right now, pick up that box of aluminum foil. Turn it so that you are looking end-on. Do you see that little dot that says “press here”, or something to that effect? You just go right on ahead and press that little dot and see what happens! Lo and behold, there is another dot on the opposing end. Press that one too. NOW try pulling the foil out!!! WOW!! You can pull to your heart’s content, and the roll won’t come flying out of the box. Isn’t that clever?? Okay, so you know it has to cost R. J. Reynolds a lot of money to add that little feature on the box. Packaging would be far less expensive if they didn’t have to run the cardboard under the little perforator machine, and paint that little blue dot on there. So why don't they advertise this handy bit of information? Don't you wish you had known about it? This is valuable information! I am so excited that I just go around pulling tin foil out of the box for no reason at all. Check your other wrapper boxes too. Some of the cellophane wraps also have this nifty feature. Share this information with all your friends. And then go ahead… rip some foil!!!

The Eagle Has Landed

"Magnificent Desolation". Those were the words Buzz Aldrin used to describe the landscape on the surface of the moon as he stepped off the Lunar Module. A few moments earlier, Neil Armstrong had just planted the first human footprint on the face of the moon. His famous statement, "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind", would become symbolic for that historic moment. (I kind of like the "Magnificent Desolation" remark my ownself!) I remember that date well. Not necessarily because I was so enthralled by history in the making, but because my parents made me stop playing and come watch the moon walk on TV. I remember that it was evening. Not because I looked at the clock, or because anything at all about the situation impressed me. I remember that it was evening because we were at the lake, and we had our clothes on. My cousins, Sharon and Jeff, and I were upstairs playing a board game. At the appointed time, we rolled our eyes at each other and very reluctantly left our game to go and watch "that stupid, boring, astronaut thing" on TV. We didn't even go all the way downstairs. I vividly remember crouching on the highest step possible (so as to return quickly to my play) that would afford me a view of the television. A little black and white number, it was, with rabbit ears. At that time the lake house was simply a weekend getaway, with few of the nicer comforts of home, like a big television set! At any rate, we were "forced" to watch the snowy image on the screen, as our parents, aunts and uncles sat leaning forward in their seats, holding their breath, taking in every second of the event. We watched him take a few steps, hop a few times, and then made a hasty retreat back to our fun. Our parents had informed us earlier in the day that we would be required to watch it. They told us that one day we would be able to say we witnessed the First Man On The Moon. Big, hairy deal. We were SO not interested… but we were at least relieved that it would not interfere with our swimming and skiing. You see, THAT's how I know it was in the evening. We were upstairs playing, out of our swimsuits, and not down at the water. Now, all these years later, I do think it is really cool that I'm able to say I witnessed the First Man On The Moon, and that I'm old enough to remember all the hooplah that went along with it... unimpressed though I was at the time. So today is the 39th anniversary of a big day for the United States of America. I suppose next year there will be a big 40th anniversary party, and I'll bet the 50th anniversary will be an even bigger bash. Way to go, Apollo 11 guys! Just like my mama said I would be, I'm really glad I watched. I'd love to know more about space travel, the stars, planets and the workings of the cosmos, but that will have to wait. I've got to get back upstairs and finish my game.

Elmo's World

Leyland, my precious little granddaughter, fell in love with Elmo when she was a wee little thing, and "Elbo" was one of the first words she learned to say. It is amazing- we can be walking around the mall, Wal-Mart or even the grocery store, and she will start pointing and saying/squealing "Elmo, Elmo!!!!" (sometimes she still says Elbo). It may take me quite some time to spot the little red guy, but I learned long ago, that if she says "Elmo", then he is somewhere within her sight range. Yes, even the grocery store. Did you know you can buy canned vegetables with Elmo on the label? Honestly, there is a marketing genius living in a luxurious condo somwhere on Sesame Street. There's Elmo green beans, Elmo bubble bath, Elmo plush toys, Elmo electronic toys, Elmo garden flags, Elmo books and coloring books, Elmo coolers and diaper bags, Elmo sippy cups, plates, bath toys, and I promise, we even have a battery-operated Elmo bubble blower (for when mommy, daddy and grandma are too stinkin lazy to dip the wand and blow our own bubbles). And Thank You Lord for those Elmo DVDs!!!!! We have Elmo bibs, blankets, a pillow, jeans, shorts, shirts, backpacks, sweatshirts, PJs, and light-up tennis shoes. I think the kicker was when Whitney found an Elmo pappy. (that's pacifier, binkie, nuk, for those of you who don't speak Leyland). And that's just the Elmo stuff in MY house. There's way more stuff out there yet to procure. The girls and I are scrapbooking next Friday, and I'm going to finish up her First Year book. One of the LOs I'm doing will be called Elmo's World. If you don't find your way to Sesame Street very often, you may not realize that the lovable little fella has his own segment of the show called... you guessed it... Elmo's World. And there's an entire series of DVDs by the same name that explores subjects like Pets, Potty Training, What Makes You Happy and many, many others. So I thought it would be cute to do an Elmo's World LO for her scrapbook with wallet-sized photos of the various and sundry Elmo items found lying around my house. As I was pulling things out of boxes, nooks and crannies this morning, Whitney and I both were surprised at how much Elmo stuff there is. Daggone it, she ate the green beans, so there's no Elmo beans to photograph. So, that's my project for this evening. Take pictures of little red things. Then it's off to Sam's to get the photos. Later I am going into my craft room (tiny little thing that it is) and start pulling paper and photos together for Friday's crop.

And speaking of Sam's- let me just vent a little bit. I did photo shoots of Leyland at four weeks, and now Corey at five weeks. Did the nekkid thing with the bow on their backs and a little tag that says "From God". And another photo of them laying on a fluffy white towel inside a straw basket. Too cute for words. For another scrapbook page, I want to have the final photo (B&W version with the background in total black- Thank You Tangela!), and on the opposing page have wallet-sized out-take shots. I burned all the shots i wanted onto a CD, totally intended to go to Sam's after work yesterday to print them. Forgot to make the turn and ended up at Wal Mart. I decided to go ahead and do it in there, since I also had other shopping to do. Well.... I go to pick up my photos and it was THIRTY THREE DOLLARS!!!! I looked at the price sheet (yeah, I should have done that BEFORE uploading and ordering), and to my shock, a 4 x 6 sheet with two wallet-sized images on there costs fifty-eight cents!! At Sam's the identical thing is .17!! The lady who did the photos was so very nice and quick with my order, that I didn't want to just have a meltdown right there, so I walked around in the store with the photos in my buggy. When I got to the checkout, I just knew there was no way I wanted to buy those photos. So I carefully peeled my name/address/phone# off the envelope, and told the lady at the check-out that I didn't want the pictures, and explained why. (She agreed with me!!) Today I had a message on my phone to call the photo dept at Wal Mart to let them know if I wanted the pictures. DJ and Delores suggested that I offer to pay them Sam's price. So I called back and gave that a try. The lady was really nice, and counter-offered to let me have them for .29 per sheet. I really hate to be totally non-green about this, but I had to let her just go ahead and shred them. I'll just re-print them at Sam's when I go to print the Elmo ones. Dave Ramsey will be really proud of me for paying 17 cents as opposed to 58 cents!! I'm kinda proud of me too. Okay, I'm off to do my Elmo shoot while Leyland is still napping. That swimming pool just wears her sweet little self out.

Karey Tells It Like It Is

I had an e-mail exchange today with Karey. We love Maxine, and I had a new one to share. I also invited her to read my blog, and mentioned that I was contemplating enclosing my carport. I mused that I might have to stand outside Wal Mart with a tin can, or perhaps I could set up a concession stand and sell personal-sized servings of my chili. Do you know what she said? I quote: "People would pay you NOT to sell your chili!!!" (yes, that was THREE exclamation points!) Ahhh.. she cuts me like a knife. She made that statement based on the following story that I told her many years ago.

When Whitney was in the youth group at church, we parents took turns on Sunday evenings making dinner for them. In mid-December, when it was my turn, I decided that I would make my scrumptious chili. My mom, knowing that I was working under some heavy deadlines, offered to make it for me. No thanks, mom, I really like my chili better than yours. So- I'm off to the grocery store to buy 10 lb of ground beef, 3 lbs of onions, 6 cans of chili beans and enough chili powder and red pepper to incinerate a city block. I brown and drain the meat, seasoning to perfection, and tearfully chop the onions. I'm using one of those huge blue-speckled pots to cook the massive amount of deliciousness. I'm smacking my lips the entire time, so proud of myself for providing such a nutritious and tasty dinner for the youngsters. By the time it has cooked enough to get the onions tender, it is nearly 2:00 a.m. I had not thought this through very carefully, though. My dilemma is this: It's too hot to put in the fridge just yet, but neither do I want to turn the heat completely off. It seemed perfectly reasonable to me to take the "crock pot" approach and just turn the heat way down to barely a simmer. Off to bed I go. Up early for church the next morning, and my house smells better than The Varsity. I was gone to church for around 2 1/2 hours, but something went terribly wrong while I was gone. When I returned and opened the door, my house smelled like a 6-month-old kitty-litter box that had been sitting out in the rain. PEEYUUUU. I lifted the lid, and my beautiful chili had this strange frothy-like substance on the top. Trying to be optimistic, I stirred the concoction, and lifted a taste from within the pot. Eeeewww! G-A-G! I was so incredibly nasty that I had to spit it out. I look at the clock and it is nearly 1:00 p.m. I'm in panic mode. I have only a few hours to come up with something to feed the kids. The smell in my house is just awful, and I must get this disaster out of my kitchen. I don my hazmat suit, put on some heavy duty oven mits and transport the offending creation outside to my backyard. My rationale is that the neighborhood dogs will be delighted to find such a tasty (for dogs) treat, and they will take care of the disposal process for me.

Wrong. After feeding the kids frozen corn dogs for dinner, I went about my activities the following week. Near the end of the week I went outside to retrieve my empty pot. I was astonished to see that the stuff was still there. Not only was it still there, it had rained during the week, and there were dead bugs floating in the rainwater. I checked to make sure the fence gate was open so the dogs/cyotes/skunks/buzzards could get in. They were open. Hmmmm. I decided to leave it out there a while longer.

Later on, oh… let's say about April… I was sitting at my desk working one day and Whitney came running into my office gagging and screaming "Get it off!! Get it off!!" I expected to see leeches or spiders or something on her. No. She had been outside pitching a ball in the air and catching it and had somehow bumped up against my chili pot. The decomposed toxic-waste had splattered onto her shirt. I swear, the shirt was disintegrating before my eyes. Holes were literally appearing at the splatter sites. And the smell… well, it was pretty bad. We managed to remove the shirt before there was any damage to her delicate skin. I finally realized it was time to do something about the pot in my yard. I again donned my hazmat suit, put on my heavy duty work gloves, clipped a clothespin on my nose and went about the task of disposal. I got my wheelbarrow (I couldn't risk splashing any of it on my own personal self), and with great caution, loaded the pot on board and carefully navigated my way to the ravine behind my house. At last the evidence was out of site! Except for the dead trees and plants in my yard there was no sign that anything had ever been amiss. Funny thing. A year or so later, my mom and dad were helping me dispose of some plants when I moved from that house. We took a load out to the ravine and my mom says to my dad, "Oh look, honey! A nice stock pot! Climb down there and get it and I'll clean it up for Cat!". Um. No thanks, mom. Believe me, Cat doesn't want that pot.
For some reason, nobody seems interested in eating my cooking any more. My dear friend Karey is probably right. I could probably finance my entire project by having people pay me not to cook. Especially chili.

Atlanta Scrapbook Expo

Scrapbook Expo Atlanta, here we come! The countdown frenzy is finally over. This time tomorrow afternoon we will be tired and worn out, but will dutifully roam from vendor to vendor “one last time” just to make sure we didn’t miss anything. This is an annual event for our little group. I think it is year number three for us as a group. I think it is number 5 for me personally. Imagine this: Archivers, Michael’s, Hobby Lobby, _______ (enter your favorite craft or SB store here) all rolled into one venue with rows and rows of exhibitors. New products, techniques and ideas to drool over and try out. Door prizes and contests. Oh yeah, baby, we are so THERE! DJ, Delores, Tangela and I are heading out bright and early tomorrow morning. Just a quick drive through at the DQ for a biscuit and off we will go. I’m only taking cash, though, no debit card. I’m on a budget, and besides, there really isn’t anything I particularly need. *gasp! that was actually painful to my fingers to type that* Oh, there’s plenty that I want…. why I’m sure there some stuff that I want that I haven’t even seen yet! That’s always the way. I find these great bargains so that I can make gifts and cards and save money. Well, I think I could set up my own Hallmark/Santa Shop right at home with the supplies I already have on hand. So, I’m not planning on spending much at all this year. I am looking for one particular item for Corey’s scrapbook though. Last year I got a big diaper pin with pastel-colored beads to slide on it that spell “Leyland” for her book. I hope those folks are back again so I can get one for Corey. I’m packing snacks to take and a PBJ for lunch. $8.00 for a sandwich can buy a lot of paper! Oh, and I’m also taking some of those foamy ear plug thingies to use when the screaming gets too loud. You know the screams I’m talking about. Those blingy, sparkly, crafty, colorful, gotta-have things that scream “BUY ME, BUY ME!!” Talk to the hand. I’m going to be strong.

Energy Crisis- Solved!

To my friends of the male persuasion, and to my younger female friends, this post will mean absolutely nothing. However, to those women nearer my age, you will identify fully. I watch the billboard at my gas station every morning. Here a penny, there a penny, slowly and surely the price of gasoline creeps ever upward. While I am trying to do my part to conserve energy (combining errands, staying in at lunch, etc.), I don't see that it is making that much of a difference in my gasoline budget. Government officials "say" they are concerned about it, and I expect it to be a hot political issue in this election. I don't know beans about how to convert this or that matter into usable energy, but from what I have read, corn is not the answer. Maybe years and years ago if we had begun to prepare for this, it might have been a feasible source of energy. Hybrid cars can help, I'm sure, but they are still gasoline dependent. I've seen a lot of scooters around town, and for some, that is a viable alternative. There's talk of using livestock dung to manufacture gasoline. PeeeYoooo! Well, I say all that is fine and good, (perhaps too little, too late),but I intend to someday let the government in on a little secret. I have the solution. In every city and town, every valley and vale, there should be a self-contained energy-uploading facility. These facilities should be totally accessible 24/7. They should have every comfort of home- plenty of chocolate and caffeine, and lots and lots of magazines to enjoy, wide-screen, flat-panel, high-density television. And internet shopping. Not to be sexist or exclusive, but only women will have access, and only a certain group of women. On her assigned day or night, each woman will enter the facility, observing the strictest security precautions, and proceed to go about her chores as if she were at home or at work. When the feeling begins to come over her, she will move quickly to the interface room, stand perfectly still, then press the green button to begin the upload. When the feeling passes, she will press the red button to stop the upload. (I know this is a feasible concept, because I my ownself can generate enough energy in a single episode to raise the room temperature by a modest 5°.) She will visit the interface room many times during her 24-hour shift. It won't matter if she is talking on the phone, washing the dog, doing the dishes, watching her favorite reality show, or even if she is sleeping. It doesn't matter if she is in an important meeting, or negotiating with her boss for a raise. If she can become embarrassed about something, and have a natural blush, then that's all the better. After her upload, she will then change her clothes, reapply her antiperspirant, and powder anything that needs powdering. After repeating this routine as many as 100 times in any given day, she is then free to return home to her family once she showers, changes her clothes (again), reapplies her antiperspirant, powders anything… well you get the picture. Oh- and on days of extreme heat or cold, or during high-energy usage such as the Christmas holidays, two or three women may be utilized simultaneously to compensate for the increased demand. When I teach myself how to harness my own "energy", I'll let the government in on my secret, and our energy crisis will be history. So if you see me driving down the street really slow, and then I suddenly speed up only to slow down a few minutes later, you'll know I'm in Full Test Mode. Better get out of my way.

Restless Legs Syndrome

Just a phrase in my medical word expander. Until a couple of years ago when my mom started complaining about her legs feeling “fidgety” and making it difficult for her to fall asleep. Now it’s all the rage on the television commercials. There’s all kinds of FDA-approved *new* medicines on the market. So far, none of them have worked for her. Randy, a friend from church, bought some kind of oil that he swears did the trick for him. My mom got her some of the stuff. “Snake oil”, she calls it. So far that hasn’t helped either. Sometimes she will fidget for hours before finally falling asleep.

You know that thing they say about the apple never falling far from the tree? Well, thanks a lot mom- I think I have inherited your RLS. It’s not enough that I have inherited your forgetfulness, now this! (Why couldn’t I have inherited your good DNA, like cooking!) Yesterday at the office was wild and crazy. I was pooped when I got home. Last night's hospital work was boring. What I really wanted to be doing was watching the finale to The Bachelorette. But no, I typed and typed until the skin fell off my fingers. Finally went to bed, only to toss and turn, wiggle and squirm. Jimmy Kimmel was a rerun- the NBA finals are painfully boring enough to hear about the first time around. What person could possibly want to hear it again? Once the tv was off and it was quiet and dark in my room, I could still hear something rustling every time my legs moved. …Sigh… it was that darn plastic Wal Mart bag, buried somewhere beneath the clean, unfolded laundry that was piled on my bed. After I dug around and found the offending noisemaker, (with the incidental finding of my tv remote, a book I had been looking for, and various and sundry other items- kind of like looking under the cushions on the sofa), I settled back under the covers hoping for a visit from the sand man. Sometime long after the time when a hard-workin’ girl should be asleep, he finally visited me, and I was able to rest. Is this what I have to look forward to? Hey, if my legs are constantly twitching and fidgeting, do you think they will get skinny? You know, like exercise? Surely it’s gotta burn some calories!! I’ll let you know if my pants start getting too big.

Kaboom!

Another 4th of July has come and gone. It was great day for our family. Instead of sleeping in, I got up fairly early and went to DJs for breakfast. One of my favorite things to do is sit on her back deck and drink coffee in the cool of morning. We had a nice long visit (nearly three hours!) Later we took Corey to GiGi's, then took the girls swimming over at Mama Jo's. We had no idea Mary could swim, but she was like a little fish in the water! Leyland loved the water and laughed and splashed until she just wore herself out. As soon as her dad put her in the play pen, she was sound asleep. We all took a nice nap then got ready for the evening. After pizza for dinner, we took the kids by to see Nany and Pawpoo. Nany wanted to keep Corey while we went to the fireworks, so the Little Man got to spend time with both sets of great-grandparents today. He was a very good boy! Whitney, Mary, Leyland and I made our way over to my office parking lot for an almost-front-row seat for the fireworks at Bishop Park. I was afraid the loud noise would frighten Leyland, but she really got into it and loved it. There was a family next to us who watched her more than the fireworks... she was so cute, jumping up and down, pointing, dancing, squealing. It was priceless. Everyone was exhausted when we returned home, and we all went to bed tired and happy. Here are a few photos and a short video.Above- Leyland taking lessons from Big Sister Mary on how to properly toss poppers to the ground for the maximum POP!

Below- Waiting patiently (??) for the fireworks to begin.

Independence

October 11, 2001. The one-month anniversary of one of the darkest days in American history found me boarding a plane, heading to the very airport from which those ill-fated planes originated. I was traveling as a chaperone with a group of 10th grade AP US History students to Boston. Though plans had been made far in advance, because of the uncertainty of air travel, we were not sure we would get to make the trip. Fortunately, we were allowed to fly, and so began one of my favorite trips ever.

Now each year when July 4th comes around, I have a new understanding and appreciation for the holiday. It's way more than fireworks, picnics, and a day off work. So much more. While I expected the trip to Boston to be a nice adventure, I had no idea what was in store for me, and how it would forever change my view of independence. Our tour guide (a descendant of John Pitcairn) was a fascinating man with a passion for Revolutionary War history, and he made it come alive. I am grateful to have walked the very ground where it all happened. It made it real. I went inside the church where Robert Newman hung the two lanterns that signaled to Paul Revere that the British were coming. I saw the window where he escaped arrest, the window that has been blackened out to commemorate his heroic act. One late afternoon I sat in a grassy field in Lexington and listened to our guide describe the small, but significant exchange of gunshots that happened on the very ground where I was sitting. In Concord, I walked across the Old North Bridge, site of "The Shot Heard Round The World". I touched the monuments that give tribute to the men who died there. Though I didn't climb its 294 steps, I visited the monument at Bunker Hill, the site of the bloodiest battle of the war. The American soldiers were short on ammunition, and the British soldiers so many, that General Prescott ordered his men- "Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes!" in order to make sure that every bullet counted. One of those shots would be fatal for Pitcairn. I visited the graves of many brave men who were instrumental in our early history- Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, Peter Faneuil, and John Hancock. I saw the building from which the Declaration of Independence was first read to the public. Wow.

The trip was fascinating, and I asked more questions than the students. Admittedly, history was a subject that I loathed while in school, and I remember very little of what I dutifully memorized in order to pass a test. Here in Boston it came alive to me, and much to my embarrassment, several times I found myself overcome with emotion at the enormity of the sacrifice that our forefathers (and mothers) endured to secure our independence. I have often seen and heard the remark that freedom is not free. It never has been. It never will be.
Happy Birthday, America! Thank you, soldiers of the Revolutionary War. Thank you, men and women throughout the history of our country who see to it that our Star-Spangled Banner Yet Waves, Ore The Land Of The Free And The Home Of The Brave!