Happy Halloween

I love Halloween,  not for the candy or for the trick or treating, but for the chance to dress up.  As a kid, this one night a year I could be anything.  I could be a pirate or a monster or even a princess.  Although I never wanted to be a princess, the opportunity was there.  I could be anyone or anything.

I could leave my stale life and become something exciting.  I could be a sailor on a ship that left Spain for the Americas.  I could swab the deck or walk the plank.  I could do it all.  I could be the world’s scariest monster or be a swordsman and fight the dragon.  The possibilities were endless.

Trick or treating was different when I was a kid.  We walked along the country road to our neighbor’s house.  We maybe hit a dozen houses in the entire night and we always had to stop at Ceicil’s and Janies house.  They were an elderly couple who loved to pretend they didn’t know who we were.  We always saved them for last because we knew it would be twenty minutes of playing guess who.  And while it cut into our candy time, we always went there.  I think maybe it was because they pretended to buy into our costumes and for that brief time, we really were who we dressed up to be.

I wasn’t Kelli from a mile down the road, I was the cowgirl or the ghost standing in their door.  I was someone special.  That is why I like Halloween.  Not for the candy or the tricks, but for the chance to try on new and exciting roles.  For the chance to be someone different than I was in everyday life.  For that time to be special.  Long live Halloween!

The last 48 hours

Let me tell you about the last 48 hours I have spent.  Okay, let me vent and complain about the last 48 hours.

A few posts back (quite a few actually) I mentioned that I have some weird hobbies.  One of my hobbies is brain tanning hides.  (yes that isn’t a typo.  I tan hides using brains and smoke)  But one of the key ingredients in that hobby is the hide itself.  I have found the best way to store the deer hides is in the freezer.

Well it was a great idea until the freezer dies while I was away for a few days.  I get home weds. night and smelled a strange odor.  I fearfully walked into the room and looked at the huge freezer that I knew was filled to the brim with hides and brains.  In dreading anticipation, I lift the lid ever so slightly……And slam it down again.  Yes that strange odor was indeed 50 hides and 12 pints of brains decomposing in a freezer that wasn’t freezing.

Now what am I to do with that mess?  I can’t just take it outside and dump it, my dogs would be dragging that gross stuff up for months, the garbage man would rightfully refuse to take that stinking mess and it was way too much to throw out at one time anyway.  So that left me with incineration.  But that takes some planning on my part.

So I get into town the next day and buy 4 cans of lighter fluid and vicks.  The lighter fluid is to get a hot fire going and vicks to keep me from dying from the smell.  I have dust masks I wear at work and I took one and smeared the inside with the vicks.  It helped alot but didn’t completely kill the smell.  Thank you C.S.I. for that good idea.

Fortunately for me and unfortunately for my brother, he got home from work in time to help.  My mom came out and she cleaned out the freezer while I played fire bug.  It was not a pretty sight.  Today I went out to the fire and noticed some hides were still left so once again I was burning stinking rotten hides.  Not a pleasant way to spend a day.

So tonight I am tired, half sick from the smell, and just plain frustrated.  But at least I found it before it got too bad.  And at least it is done and gone.  I think maybe my next hobbie will be flowers or perfumes, or a sweet smelling anything.

100th post

I was amazed this morning to see that This is my 100th post.  It is amazing that I have posted 100 times and what is more amazing is that people read this blog.  I spent some time last night reading the things I have written and wondering at the changes that has happened over these last few months.  It has been an interesting ride, Thank you for joining me on my adventure.

I HATE BEES

There I am doing it again. Using that “H” word that used to get me into so much trouble. But I do. I really do hate bees. Beyond that, I am bee phobic. I run and scream like a girl whenever there are bees around. Throw a snake or a spider and I would calmly put it outside, but have a bee in my house? I run for the bug spray. You know the kind I am talking about. The can that shoots up to 40 feet and totally drowns everything in its path.

I know where my fear comes from. We used to have honey bee hives and I was fascinated and loved to watch them fly in and out and dance their directions to each other. But one day it happened. I was out there watching them as usual and for some strange reason they decided I was a threat. Maybe the queen bee was PMSing and yelling at all the worker bees, or maybe it was just that time of the month (inventory time) and the workers didn’t want me watching over their shoulders. I should have retreated when I heard the little bugle call coming from the guard bees, but no I stayed. You’ve seen the cartoons where the swarm comes out and chases the person till they run into the lake? Well, I didn’t have a lake to run into. I was rather sore and swollen after they finished with me. The only good thing was the knowledge that the suckers who stung me were dead.

So that explains my fear, but it just isn’t honey bees, anything with a stinger terrifies me. And I know logically that the sting only hurts for a little while, but adrenaline outweighs my logic everytime. Logic tells me it is only one little bee in my house, adrenaline tells me to grab the can and wash the window with poisons. Logic tells me to slowly walk away from the bees and adrenaline says screw that, run for the hills.

Well my gripe today doesn’t involve a honey bee but a wasp. Last night I innocently grabbed hold of a bag of garbage that it must have been resting on and zap. Right in the thumb. Of course it hurt a little bit and then I went about my day. (getting stung is never as bad as the FEAR of getting stung. It doesn’t make sense, I can’t explain it.) So it thumps for a while and I look down and there is a nice welt forming. A few minutes later I notice I can’t bend my thumb. It has swollen to twice it’s normal size. You know those cute little lines on your thumb where it bends? I have really deep lines but the thumb, it no bend.

Of course it is on my right hand and I’m right handed, and I never truly appreciated the opposable thumb before today. The only good thing is that if my car breaks down I have a really big thumb to hitch hike with. Or maybe I could draw eyes and a mouth on it, it sort of reminds me of humpty dumpty, and then I would have my very own thumb puppet to keep me occupied. Maybe if it insists on growing, I could name it and claim it on next years taxes.

Did I mention that I hate bees?

Bad Joke

Okay I found this funny but if it offends, my apology. 

Jesus vs Satan !!

 

Jesus and Satan were having an on-going argument about who was better on the computer. They had been going at it for days, and frankly God was tired of hearing all the bickering.

 

Finally fed up, God said, ‘THAT’S IT! I have had enough. I am going to set up a test that will run for two hours, and from those results, I will judge who does the better job.’

 

So Satan and Jesus sat down at the keyboards and typed away.

 

They moused.

 

They faxed.

 

They e-mailed.

 

They e-mailed with attachments.

 

They downloaded.

 

They did spreadsheets!

 

They wrote reports.

 

They created labels and cards.

 

They created charts and graphs.

 

They did some genealogy reports

 

They did every job known to man.

 

Jesus worked with heavenly efficiency and Satan was faster than hell.

 

Then, ten minutes before their time was up, lightning suddenly flashed across the sky, thunder rolled, rain poured, and, of course, the power went off..

 

Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed every curse word known in the underworld.

 

Jesus just sighed.

 

Finally the electricity came back on, and each of them restarted their computers. Satan started searching frantically, screaming:

 

‘It’s gone! It’s all GONE! ‘I lost everything when the power went out!’

 

Meanwhile, Jesus quietly started printing out all of his files from the past two hours of work.

 

Satan observed this and became irate.

 

‘Wait!’ he screamed. ‘That’s not fair! He cheated! How come he has all his work and I don’t have any?’

 

God just shrugged and said,

 

JESUS SAVES

 

Senior Moments

Today I stopped at a little store to run in and get a pack of smokes…(Unless it is mom reading this, then I stopped for a pint of milk LOL)  Well anyway, I went in, got the merchandise I was after and walked back out in to the beautiful afternoon.

I clicked the little button to unlock the door on my Ford Escape and…nothing.  I was irritated to say the least.  It is so hard to change the batteries in those little key fob things.  And once you do, they never last as long as the original battery.  So I was grumbling and yes I even swore under my breath.  I was thinking, “Okay fine, I’ll just HAVE to use the key.”  Like that really takes any more effort or time.

So I get to the car and put my key in the lock and turn it…again, nothing.  Now I am livid.  I just want to get home.  I pull out my second set of keys and click the button and NOTHING!

My vehicle is a female.  Her name is Fancie the Ford, and I was calling her names that began with the letter “F”  but it wasn’t Fancie.  I am getting more and more frustrated by the minute, I try the first set of keys, nothing.  The second set of keys, nothing.  I am about ready to cry when this very nice lady walks up and asks me if there was anything she could do to help me.

So I explain to her that I just can’t get my keys to works and she bursts out laughing.  Not the reaction I was expecting.  So I stood there in stunned silence watching her as she slowly gained control of her mirth.  I waited to hear her explain why my troubles tickled her funny bone in such a way.  Finally she caught her breath and said, “Honey, this is my car.  Your car is over there.  It’s lights keep flashing every time you hit the button.”   I turned, quietly pushed the button, and she was right.

My car was unlocking.  At least it tried every time that I told it too.  Good car, Bad owner.   So now I feel like a complete idiot.  I kept profusely apologizing to the lady for trying to break into her car and she is laughing again and saying I made her day and to not worry about it.  I even apologized for calling her car bad names.  (It was a male by the way and it’s name was Thomas.)   So at least she had a sense of humor and didn’t call the cops on me.

So needless to say, I quickly get into my car and drive off, before anyone else had the chance to get amused by my senior moment.  I can just hear the conversation around her table tonight,  “Honey this crazy woman kept trying to get into my car.”

I have tried and tried all day to come up with a moral or lesson learned.  But I just can’t.  So here is my challenge to all my readers, Come up with life lessons that can be learned from this “senior moment” and post them here.   I will award a prize to the best answer.  The rules are a follows:  You can put in as many entries as you like.  They can be funny or serious.  No one is allowed to make fun of ME personally.  😉  Well okay you can, but be gentle, I had a bad day LOL.

A Letter

I have a friend that asked me this question. What would I say to her teenage daughter if she came to me and said she thought she might be gay? I have thought about this for quite some time now. So I wrote my response down to her as if I wrote the daughter a letter. Here it is.

Dear______.

After our recent conversation I thought I would share my thoughts with you. First off, let me say that I don’t give a damn if you are straight, gay, or bi-sexual. You are my friend and have been for many years. Your sexuality is one tiny piece of the totality that is you. And I like you, for who you are, for the totality that is you. Even if your mom and I were not friends, I would like and respect you.

You are a beautiful young woman with many talents and goals. You are full of dreams that I know will take you farther than you can even imagine. You are intelligent, funny, easy to talk to, older than your years, and caring. You have the biggest heart, you are so full of love and willing to care about your friends and family. (even your mom, even though she drives you nuts from time to time.)

You have loved my kids as if they are your flesh and blood. When they call you their sister, they mean it. They mean it because you have been there for them in the way that a big sister would. You protected little man B on the bus from his first day in kindergarten, and little A still swears that he is going to marry you someday. Nothing would make me happier. You are and will be a blessing to whatever family that is fortunate enough to get you. You are a gift from God. Don’t ever forget that.

Long before your mom and I were friends, I prayed for you. The entire congregation prayed that you would be carried to term, and that you would be born healthy and happy. I remember the day it was announced in church that you were safely delivered. Your Grandmother was so happy and proud. Your Pap had tears in his eyes. You were a child that was longed for and cherished. Not only by your mom but the community as well, and you were a beautiful baby. The first Sunday I saw you, I was struck by the depth of your eyes. You were born a deep soul and you continue to be a deep soul.

The years pass and there you are this little 9 year old running around in the church basement at youth group. That was how your mom and I became friends. And in turn you became an intricate part of my life. An intricate part of my life and the lives of my sons. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute you spent at my house. Well, maybe not every single minute, but most of them. And I had the great privilege to watch you grow from a child to a young woman. And I have been fortunate to watch you grow into a beautiful person, both inside and out.

Now you are a wonderful young Lady and all I ask of you is to do me one favor. Please don’t label yourself and try to live up to what that label means. (or what you think it means) Don’t live up to a label. They are so limiting and callous.  Don’t assume you are gay and give up your taste in clothing to wear plaid shirts and blue jeans.  Don’t assume you are straight and give up the sports you enjoy.   Give yourself time to see who you are. You may be gay. You may be straight. You may be bi-sexual. The teenage years are full of enough angst without trying to be something you think you should be. Live your life, see where you go. If you are gay, that is fine. If you’re not that is fine too. Just be yourself and please realize that you are a wonderful person. A wonderful person that is loved for who you are.

I would never judge you if you were straight, gay, bi or trans. You are a wonderful person that I am blessed to know. And I have the advantage of being able to see the whole picture that is you. I know what it is like to question my orientation. Yes I know how hard it can be. But let me tell you something, no matter where you end up on that continuum, it will not change who you are. You are that God given gift to this world and nothing will change that. You are my friend, no you are more than that. You are a part of my chosen family. You are fiercely loved by your family and by my family. You are a welcomed member of my family.

So _______, it doesn’t matter what orientation you are. What matters is who you are, and that is a great person. I say that realizing that you are at a very difficult place right now. I know the questions you are asking. I know the pain that you are feeling. And I understand your confusion. Just know that I am here for you anytime you want or need to talk. And I will always be here for you, no matter what.

Church hid in the Weeds

This was sent to me by my darling JB and it is definitely worth the read…..

Church Hid In The Weeds

Just two little boys
walking down a dusty lane…..
They came upon this old white house…
with broken window panes.

The paint was faded, the shine was gone…
the grass had grown so high….
still they made their little feet
go see what was inside.

 

 

 

 

They opened up the squeaky door
and then it came to light….
This must have been an old church house…
once upon a time.Dirty, dusty wooden pews…
a pulpit that still stood…
A Bible laid upon it….
though the pages weren’t too good.

An offering plate and song books too…
were lying on the floor.
They must have left this old church fast…
the day they closed these doors.

And over in the corner…
a piano was still there.
it must have played a pretty tune..
but I guess nobody cared.

So little Bill looked up at Tommy..
and Tommy looked at Bill…
Why don’t we clean this old church up,
and get these old pews filled?’

They took a rag and wiped the dust…
to try and make things shine..
And then they took the offering  plate…
and put in it their last dime.

They took a broom and swept the floor…
and picked up broken glass….
They got it all so nice and neat…
and then they mowed the grass.

They lifted up the old church sign…
and stood it by a tree…
right down by that old dirt road
where everyone could see.

They ran back home, to find Daddy gone
but their Momma was inside…
Just to find her hurt again…
where Daddy had made her cry.

‘Don’t cry Momma, wipe those tears,’
Little Bill and Tommy smiled…
‘Cause we have a big surprise for you….
just down the road a mile.’

Hand in hand they tugged at her.
until they made her run….
‘What is it Bill, Oh Tommy,
just what have you two kids done?’

And then they came upon the house…
once hidden by the weeds…
and there it stood a country church…
just like it used to be.

‘But what is it, Mother? What’s with your tears?
We  thought this would bring you joy.’
‘Yes, but hush kids now and listen close…
my two sweet precious boys.’

They both got quiet and stood real still…
for the words they heard so true….
was Daddy praying in the church…
with his head bowed on the pew.

‘Forgive me Lord! Forgive me Lord!
though I’m not worthy of Your love…
shine down on this sinner man,
sweet Salvation from above.’

‘For I’ve been out in the world, You know..
living my life all wrong…
until I came upon this church;
the place where I belong.’

‘I never noticed it before…
all those times I passed it by..
I guess I wasn’t looking, Lord…
or maybe I was drunk.’

‘Bless oh Lord, yes, bless oh Lord…
the one who made me see..
this little church that used to hide…
behind all those tall weeds.’

And then he raised his head and stood…
with his hands high in the  air…
to find two dirty, tear-faced boys…
with Momma standing there.

They ran up to him, hugged him tight…
as their tears fell on the floor.
‘Don’t worry kids, I’m not the Dad,
the one you’ve known before.’

Things are different for us now..
so keep on those pretty smiles…
and let’s go gather people in…
to walk down these church aisles.’

 

 

 

Then Bill looked up at Tommy…
and Tommy looked at Bill…
‘Come on brother, let’s get to work…
to get these old pews filled.’‘For we need no special blessing…
for cleaning up this church…
’cause, God gave us back our Daddy…
and that’s more than gold is worth.’

Sunday morning, pews all filled
and smiles on every face…
Especially two little country boys…
the ones who found this place.

Though it was hid back in the weeds…
and so far out of sight…
Nothing’s ever hard to find
if you’re walking toward God’s light.

 1 John 1:7 we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have
fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son cleanses us from all sin.’

 

Grandpap D

I have been thinking about my Grand pap D today. I’m not sure why, but maybe it has something to do with the fact I was sitting around last night drinking a few beers, smoking, and eating bacon. It is funny the childhood memories that stick with you. If I close my eyes and listen real hard, I can almost hear him say, “Girl, go get the Clabber girl.” That was the emptied can of baking powder he stored his camel cigarettes in. I remember they didn’t have a filter. He would pull his seat up, have a beer and eat some bacon, and then sop up the bacon grease with a slice of bread. “Better than butter.” He would say.

When I was five we moved in next door to my Pap and Grandma D. I used to love going up there to spend the night. Pap would always look at me and say, “Do I have to?”, which meant, do I have to put up with you tonight? Which was a loving joke between us and not harsh like it sounds. And I would always answer, “yep you have to.” One night when I was 11, I went up and he didn’t say his line. I was upset thinking he was mad at me. I was deeply troubled and my Grandma asked me what was wrong, so I told her. It wasn’t 10 minutes later that Pap got up and walked in and asked his ritual question.

At the time I knew he was sick, but as a child I didn’t realize how very sick he was. Words like colon cancer and metastasized meant very little to me. What meant the world was that Pap wasn’t mad at me and he remembered to say his line. Of course I didn’t realize it at the time, but my Grandma told him why I was upset and he made the point to get up out of his old wooden rocker to set my mind at ease. As an adult I know what that cost him.

He was so very sick and less than a month later he went into the hospital and never came back out. He died on my mom’s (his daughter’s) birthday at the exact time she was born. I think I can remember every detail of that day. It was a Sunday morning and my brother and I walked out the lane to go to church. On the way we found a turtle so I took him with me to church. My Sunday school teacher was a very strict and proper woman but she did something that day that I will never forget. She baptised my turtle and named him Timothy. She said God loves all his creatures and if they care enough to come to church then they should be baptised so we know we will see them again in Heaven. She said that anyone God cared enough to create would be waiting for us in heaven, just like that little turtle.

Looking back I know why she did what she did. Maybe it was sacrilegious or wrong, but she gave me great comfort. She knew my Grandfather was dying and she knew I would need the comfort of knowing God would be there for him. Many of the adults in the church didn’t like her because she could be a bit bossy at times, but that day, she won a very special place in my heart. But to get back to the story. After church, my brother and I walked back in the lane to see Mom and Dad walking out to meet us. I knew in my heart that Pap was gone but I pretended to not know. I didn’t want to face it. I put the turtle in the basement of Grandma’s house and walked down to hear the worst news of my young life. My Pap was gone.

He was a quiet, stoic man. I don’t ever remember him saying “I love you” to me, although I never questioned it. He was a big man; tall and muscular with a beautiful crown of white hair. He had the driest sense of humor but he could be funny. He was so practical it wasn’t funny, but in all he did, I respected him and loved him.  Looking back as an adult, I realize he was probably much better at being a grandfather than a father.  But he loved me well.

 My favorite picture of the two of us is me sitting on his lap on the bulldozer he was driving while he dug out the basement for the house I now live in. I was maybe 4 or 5 at the time and he was retired or close to it. But the look on our faces, I was thrilled to be up on that big bulldozer and he was thrilled I was there. I can see pride in his eyes. That one moment captured in time has given me much peace.

I don’t know if Pap ever stepped foot into a Church, but I do know he would do anything to help a neighbor. He was a good man. Although I must admit he had a wild side, especially when he was young. Oh the stories I have heard. They make me smile as an adult but they were almost scandalous when I was a kid. I think my favorite story is the one about the time when he was coming home from the bar drunk and opened his door to spit his tobacco juice and he fell out of the truck. Fortunately it was at the end of the lane and the truck coasted to a stop and he got up and drove in the lane.

I remember one winter there was a lot of snow. The lane had drifted in and I was walking in from the bus stop. Grandma said he watched everyday for me to start in the lane and that day he saw me fall in a drift and he went out and started the tractor to give me a ride in the lane. I just remember being cold and wet from falling in the snow and looking up to see my Pap coming to save me. He was my hero and he still is. I miss him. I never realized how much until last night and today. I pray my Sunday school teacher was right and all good men go to Heaven. I also pray that the preacher was wrong and that I am not going to hell. No, I know he was wrong. Someday I hope to see Pap again, and hear him say, “Do I have to?” and this time he will mean, “Do I have to put up with you for eternity?” And I will answer, “Yep you have to.”

Joke for today

This was emailed to me and I found it funny.  Have a laugh on me.

TEXAS Bar Sues Church

In a small Texas town, (Mt. Vernon ) Drummond’s bar began
construction on a new building to increase their business. The
local Baptist church started a campaign to block the bar from
opening with petitions and prayers. Work progressed right up
till the week before opening when lightning struck the bar and
it burned to the ground.

The church folks were rather smug in their outlook after that,
until the bar owner sued the church on the grounds that the
church was ultimately responsible for the demise of his
building, either through direct or indirect actions or means. The
church vehemently denied all responsibility or any connection
to the building’s demise in its reply to the court.

As the case made its way into court, the judge looked over the
paperwork. At the hearing he commented, ‘I don’t know how I’m
going to decide this, but as it appears from the paperwork, we
have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer, and
an entire church congregation that does not.’