Well, folks, bad news, or good...depends on your feelings about my ramblings.

For about a yer or so, I wrote a little column for the local paper. "Y'all, but Seriously..." Just a fun ramble of my thoughts. Sometimes sharing stories of how I rationalize my mishaps into life lessons.

New owner and new editors, mean new (old) outlet for me.  I don't know how many people read it, but on the rare occasion I get out of the house, I often run into people that tell me how much they enjoyed and miss it.

Ok. I'm not naïve enough to think I'm some great writer. And maybe they just enjoy reading it, to remind themselves there are real train wrecks out there that don't mind showing the world their freak flag. That'd be me.

Regardless, there are a few that claim to enjoy it. And I enjoy writing it.

I am going to publish those articles here, and hope to write a few new ones.

They may not be published in order of printing, and they may have added or deleted thoughts, depending on my mood and time! Total randomness, like the person that is I. Or Me. Whatever the grammatically correct sentence should say.

So, to kick off my re-kicked off blog ….

"KIND TO FAMILY"

I must have been about 17. I had my driver’s license, which made me my mother’s “taxi and errand” service. I can’t remember why, but my sis and I had been in some sort of a tiff. Momma sent us to town for some groceries. Sister was my very, unenthusiastic assistant.

As we got into town, we came up to a man trying to cross the road. I slowed down, smiled and waved him across. He waved his thank you, and we were back on my way to the store.

Sister turned her head, glared right at me and said, “I don’t know why you are trying to be nice. You are FAR from it!”

You had to be there to hear it in her voice to get the full effect. We were mad as hornets then, but laughed about her weak effort at hatefulness for years since.

I was thinking about her today, like most, and that memory popped up. I got to pondering something.

We should always be kind to strangers, right? Why do we disregard that rule when it comes to family? Why is it ok to treat the ones we love the most with less respect than we do a total stranger?

I would have never considered raising my voice to a teacher. I’ve never disrespected a supervisor. As a matter of fact, I’ve had very few cross words with anyone. Notice, I did say “few, and not “none.”

We all get irritated at strangers, at acquaintances and most certainly at teachers, bosses, and co-workers. But never, or very rarely, do we treat and speak to any of those people the way we do to our family when we are mad.

We’ve all been in the middle of a parent/child showdown when the phone rings. The screech of, “I said pick it up!!” is quickly replace with a sweet melodious, “Hello. Yes. This is she.”

I don’t know how it is for you, but in our house, children fight. Parents get irritated. Spouses argue. That’s life. We get mad. We get over it. But in our anger sometimes things are said that can’t be forgotten.

Is it true, familiarity breeds contempt?

Maybe not. Maybe contempt is born from a lack of respect for each other. If our home is our castle, we want to be treated as kings and queens. But we mustn’t forget to be as forthcoming with nurturing and kindness to the rest of our royal court. And we should remember, the words we choose can be forgiven, but not unheard.

Y'all, but seriously...“Lord keep your arm around my shoulder, and your hand over my mouth.” But when my hubby gets peanut shells all over the couch, or he “sprinkles when he tinkles”, well, Katie, bar the door! I don’t mind sharing my thoughts.

These are the people we love. The people that love us. Keep spreading those kindness seeds all over the countryside. It’s the right way to be. But save the best to plant in your own yard. After all, they are the ones who truly share your excitement to see them bloom!

Stretchmarks and wrinkles

Just thinking about my stretch marks. They are so incredibly and beautifully made. 

My stretchmarks allowed my babies room to grow. It allowed them to thrive in the womb. To develop into a beautiful and healthy baby. My skin stretched to it's limit. Yet, in contrast to any other material, it never burst. It continued to stretch to make room for the amazing beings that were growing inside, leaving in it's wake, a roadmap of the journey in which I was about to embark. 

I jokingly attribute my gray hair and wrinkles to the raising of those two babies. In actuality, it is not far from the truth.

You see my wrinkles are merely stretchmarks. Stretchmarks from allowing my children to grow outside the womb. The frowns and cries, the smiles and cheers, stretch my face leaving it looking wrinkled and used. My own experiences and celebrations. So many ups and downs through the years have created the lifelines in my cheeks and around my eyes. 

My gray hair coincidentally appears at a rate similar to the crevices and valleys in my face.   I imagine my skin is stitched with the strong, thick, silver strands.  As the years pass, those strands pull and grow, at the same time unraveling my face, leaving behind, the wrinkles that are increasing in depth and length. 

I no longer pull the grays. They are the ropes I climbed to get through the hard times. 

Each glimpse in the mirror is a reflection of all that I have been through. The wrinkles a reminder of the growth I've endured throughout my life. Watching and allowing my children to grow into amazing adults. At the same time, stretching my own limits, growing within myself. Experiencing my own, personal challenges internally, and within my marriage and other relationships.  Becoming more the person that He wants me to be. 

Yall, but seriously...Life is filled with so many ups and downs. We were created in such a way that though we may feel, at times, that we might burst with sadness. Or pride,. Or happiness. Or anger. We never do. 

 Allow yourself to feel those emotions. You will not burst. You will grow. You will stretch. And yes, you may end up with a few extra gray hairs and wrinkles. But when you look in the mirror, remember the ride that you took to get through each valley, and to climb each rope. 

Celebrate the wrinkles, and grays and stretchmarks. They are what is creating the YOU, you are meant to be.

"I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works., And my soul knows it very well." Psalm 139:14

Oh my goodness! I've had really, really good intentions of getting back on the blog wagon. But what is it they say, "Even the best intentions..." something, something, something.

Ok, so I really don't know what they say. 

Well, actually, I know Huey Lewis thinks that "they say the heart of rock n roll is the beatinnnnnn....a!" And from what I've seen, I believe them. 

See, I'm not entirely clueless. 

Aaannyhooo...I decided to get back to blogging. When I look back at all that has happened since I last posted, I'm amazed at how much my life has changed. 

I may list all those changes in this post. I may not. I guess I'll decide when I get there. Or when I get to the end and don't. 

I also think I'll probably change the name of the blog...but I need some suggestions. 

One thing I have been doing, the thing that has led to my jump-starting my blog...I'm doing a little free-lance writing for the local paper. (That sounds pretty fancy, huh?) (Don't be deceived. I think Julia both feels sorry for me,yet, likes to see the train wreck I produce every week.) (Love you, Ju Ju!)

I am having a good time with it. It's called "Y'all, but seriously..." It's pretty silly most of the time, and talks a lot about my chickens (which you may know nothing about, since I haven't filled you in on the last year-plus of changes in my life.)(One of the best, obviously, is that I am now a full time chicken mom.) (Shout out to my Lola and Goose!)


So, I think, to keep up with my columns, I'll start posting them here, maybe included in my blog update. Maybe in place of an update. Since I started back in January, I won't be taking away from the surprise in the paper each week. (Yall really need to subscribe so you don't have to wait!)

I have a ton to do tonight...like get my life together, so I think I'll cut this short...

Posting my first "Y'all..." below. (And to add an update, before you get to it...naked lady sold!)

Comment and let me know what you think? 
(Didn't list the changes...I'll work on that.)

Yes, I’m a junkaholic. No, I don’t need help.

I love junk. I love the hunt for an awesome, rusty, chippy, piece of good ole junk.

When the “white sales” are going on during January, and the clearance racks are full, so the stores can get ready for the latest trends, don’t look to run into me. I will be at the thrift store, or garage sale. You may even pass me on the side of the road, by the dumpster, snagging that perfectly good table someone discarded for trash pick up.

I’m not alone in my love for the old and discarded. I have many “junky friends”. But for those of you that don’t understand our love for the unloved, maybe I can shed some light. I hope you soon find yourself junk-intrigued.

“Blessed is she that saves furniture from dumpsters, for she shall embarrass her husband and children, but have amazing projects.”- Jennifer Allwood

Are we cheapskates? Maybe, to a certain extent. Why buy it new when you can find “pre-loved” and give it another chance? Anyone can go to the hardware store and buy an aluminum pail for $10. We’d rather go through the pile of decayed metal and pick out the rustiest one to take home for free.

Sometimes we do come across something worth good money. I once sold an old $10 blender for $400 on ebay. True story! However, my naked bathing lady ashtray, is still waiting on the perfect home.

Don’t judge. She’s really quite tasteful.

There is a thrill in the hunt for finding a really great relic. Almost every wall or shelf in my home has something with a used soul. The stained glass behind my television that came from an old home here in Post. The artillery box, from a man’s garage in Meridian, that belonged to his father. My latest find…a 4’ x 3’ painting propped up in my bedroom that I found at Old Mill Trade Days for only five dollars! Yes, it’s huge. No, I don’t know where to hang it. But it’s awesome, and unique, and it was ONLY $5!

My junk-padres and I share the same love for rust. We love wondering about the history of the items we find. Who did it belong to? How did they feel about it? How did they possibly part with something so fabulous? There is something comforting about the rush we feel finding these treasures from simpler times.

We often find ourselves at the same rummage sales, running for the same glorious piece of scrap. Some of the items we collect remind us of simple times past.

My hubby was once irritated by my need for impromptu stops on road trips. He says I can spot a florescent green yard sale sign, 10 miles away. However, after a few years of really good finds, he has finally come around. Our vacations are often planned on where the really good junk or antique stops are along the way.

But most important, we scavengers actually provide a public service. I’m no tree hugger, but you have to admit that we, as a society, produce a lot of waste. Therein lies the need for our passion. We recycle, reuse, and repurpose those tossed away items, otherwise meant for the landfill. We cringe when someone says they “just threw it away,” when we knew we could have done something really cool with it.

Let this be a plea to all you non-junkers. When you feel the need to declutter, clean out those barns, or piles of trash, don’t toss it into the dumpster. Call one of your junk loving friends to help you sort the trash from the treasures! We may just change your mind about tossing it at all!

Turtliciousness!

Wow! It's been a year and half since I posted! I really wanted to have the Hag Wagon finished by now, but life happens, and it happens fast.Almost as fast as my attention span changes from project to project. I have, however introduced Halle to the HW, and she loves it!!

My new goal is to finish her up by the time we open the shop.

For those that do not know, Smokin Dick is putting in a "shop" by the house. We keep calling it the shop, since we are really not sure exactly what we are going to do, or how.

Have you ever known someone that opened a store without knowing what they are selling? No? Well now you do!

Our original purpose was to have a place for him to cook and package his Smokin delish smoked cheese. I planned, and still plan to put some of my Queenie Bee's items for sale in there as well. But as soon as we posted our very loosely made plans, everyone has decided it is to be a restaurant.

So, we may try to incorporate a little cookin', too. We still really just don't know.

What I DO know is that I am ready to get it open! Dicky has been working on it, building on, and building on, and building on again! Hopefully it won't be too long. I think once we get the building finished, we can decide what kind of "shop" we want to open. That's the way you do it, isn't it? :)

********
So, some awkward news! Life...as I knew it...for 48 whole years...has been a total and complete embarrassment.

fi·na·gle

fəˈnāɡ(ə)l/

verb

USinformal

past tense: finagled; past participle: finagled

1. obtain (something) by devious or dishonest means.

   "Ted attended all the football games he could finagle tickets for"

   • act in a devious or dishonest manner.

     "they wrangled and finagled over the fine points"

I love the word finagle. I use it a lot. Please do not mistake me as an actual finagler, however. I am always on the up and up and would never try to finagle anyone!

But I, Shellee Odom, Swannie Bob,(actually Sommy,but we will discuss that later!) in all my scholarly intelligence, after multiple unofficial (and actually non-existant) degrees in Proper Pronunciation, Spelling and Grammar Usage from the University of I Used to Think I Knew it All, have been pronouncing the fun and spunky word "finagle" wrong for 48 years!

At 48 years old, I finally started to wonder why everyone but me said it wrong.

Look above at the pronounciation...see that ā ? For those that may not read dictionarian, that means "AAAAAAAAYYYY". Like Arthur Fonzarelli used to say.


But me? No...I said fin-ag- le...like in Ag shop. And in my Texan accent, almost sounds like "finEGGle". And as much as I can't stand to be grammatically incorrect...I just CAN NOT say "fināgle".  

So I guess I am a finagler, after all. A finagler of the English language. Although, now I'm wondering about the word's origin, too. To which, by the time I type this line,  I have already googled, and now know. But I'm not telling you...I can't do EVERYthing, now, can I? Googling is good for your soul...look it up and report back to me. That's your assignment! 

*******
If, at this point in my social media career, you haven't gotten sick of my rambling, and hidden all my posts, you have probably read about my newest adventure...TURTLE ranching!

Just for a little back ground...I decided it would be fun to have some turtles, just hanging out, living in my back yard. What I would REALLY love is to have one of those giant dudes! I remember riding one when I was little and it was TOTALLY AWESOME!!

Don't get me wrong. I don't want a turtle to ride. If I tried to ride a turtle...even a giant one...it would look like a deeply buried stepping stone after I sat on it. 

I just think they are cool dudes. 

Anyway, I am starting small, with regular ole, cool dude box turtles. I was given 6 turtles by a friend, who moved into a house that was already home for these turds (that's what I call them..."My Sweet Little Turds"). But his dogs weren't terribly crazy about them, so he gave them to me. My parents already had one, Ernest. Who actually turns out, is Ernestine. So I gave her two, a boy and girl, and kept four for my turtle farm. I had recently gotten the lowdown on the location of another turtle, but I really wanted at least a couple, so I let the 'rents jump line and take that one, who is now an actual Ernest. 

Ok...Curry turtles are a whole other story, so I will have to tell that one later. Back to my turd-tale...

So I keep four. two females, two males. Or at least they were born that way. I didn't ask them for their identity preference. That's just too much for a new turtle mom to worry with right now. The went through several names, and now I can't even remember what they were, except for one of the males. He has only three feet. Four legs, but only three feet, So I named him Yardstick. Pretty ingenious, I thought. 

Fast forward a week...fast forward from when I got them...actually rewind from today...we went out of town a few days and Chase took care of the little turds while we were gone. He couldn't remember anyone's name, and other than Yardstick, with the whole only three foot thing, couldn't tell them apart. So he started calling him Lieutenant Dan. Kind of a cruel thing to do...but also kind of catchy, so we stuck with it and renamed everyone else in the Gump family...Jennie, Momma and Forest. 

It has been fun so far, but I have had a heck of a time keeping up with them, since Turtle Paradise is only 3/4 finished. 

Well....what you DIDn't hear or read on Facebook...we have a new addition!! Bubbles Gump! And let me tell you...Forest is IN LOVE! The first day on the right side of Turtle Paradise...and this morning under the tree on the other end of Turtle Paradise. I have pictures to prove it! I'm not sure if I should post them here. My daddy is ashamed that I am sharing turtle porn. And Bailey told me that it is definitely not Facebook appropriate, but it's really pretty interesting. So, we'll see...

*****
(The following was an unpublished muse from sometime or other during the last year...Guess I'll get serious for a few minutes. )

I read a post from a friend talking about what a black hole wondering was, and the negativity that can bring. Her post was about a conversation she was having with another friend, so I was not privy to all they discussed. But it did get my mind going as well.

How many times do you get caught unawares by a situation, respond unprepared for the confrontation, only to go home and think "I should have said blank", or "I wish I had told her blank"? Or even wish you had NOT said whatever it was that came to mind at the time?

On the flip side, how many scenarios have you developed in your mind, to be prepared for those occasions?

Well...next time so-in-so says this, I'm gonna tell her this...next time this happens, I'm going to do blank.

Never, or should I say rarely,  are those pre thoughts for our positive experiences.

"Next time she tells me my hair looks good, I'm just going to tell her 'Thanks, girl."

So my wondering, which we have determined is a black hole of sorts, is, why do we want to be prepared for the  negative? Why do we want to appear ready for a fight? Why is important to plan to be the victor?

If my positive experience reactions are more sincere when spontaneous, why would my negative not be?

Someone close to me did just this last week...doctor's office had mixed up a previous appointment, so it had to be rescheduled. So her plan was to call first thing, morning of the appointment and make sure it was still correct. Ok..that's not really a problem, but she had also planned out what she was going to say and do if there was another mistake.

Is it seriously that important to be prepared to attack someone that might make two mistakes in a row?

I really think, considering it had happened before, that if it did happen again, and I was surprised by it, I would not be nearly as surprised as I was the first time, therefore a little more prepared as to what I should say or do. And do I really want to be ready to attack someone, that probably didn't think ahead to prepare for my attack? Make them feel small and go home feeling like they should have said "___"?

When I think about how I want to make people feel, inferior is not even on my list. Neither is slow, dumb, incompetent, etc.

If I felt so strongly about the situation, maybe I should plan on how to nicely approach them about how to keep the situation from happening another time. Otherwise, my blood pressure gets up, theirs gets up, and everyone's day is ruined.


No, I'm not perfect. I've reacted, post-acted and pre-acted all kinds of situations in my mind. I've planned many a quarrel. But maybe I need to start concentrating on how to react in a positive way, regardless of how it is going to be accepted by the other party.

So. I want to be a responsible, productive, successful adult. I really, truly do. But I also really want to stay home, take naps, eat brown sugar from the bag and do crafts all day.

*****
Ok...now I have to ask a question. My sweet grandbaby, Halle Bug, has decided that my name should be "Sommy" as opposed to "Swannie". Ok, I love it! And boy do I love her! But now the title of my little bloggy woggy is not accurate. Also, It's not really all about my Hag Wagon most of the time, either. So, yall throw me some ideas for a new name for the Blog. Assuming any of you can decipher my ramblings enough to even get to this point in the writing. 

Comment on my Facebook, or comment here on the blog comment section. Just HELP! Please!
****

Oh yeah...I need an investor...
I'm going to open a corndog
batter on a stick factory.
BEST PART of a corndog EVER!! 

*****
So I thought about it and decided though maybe not FB appropriate, I know you are all curious and probably won't google...so here...(not suitable for children...or those with a low tolerance to nature...or prudes...or anyone else that doesn't like to see pictures of turtles "doin' it". 

I Now Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick

I've always been so SOFT-spoken, (quit your snickering) so I am sure you haven't noticed anything different. But I had quite the calamity recently.

 

Is there anything worse than getting up and finding that your sweetheart has used your toothbrush? (It was wet, so I know it was you, Babe!) Yes, there is.

So I'm just a little irritated that my brush was already wet. Irritated or grossed out enough to not use it? Obviously not. I have a stash of new ones, but this one is pretty new, so I figured, we share the same germs, and toothpaste cleans, so what the heck. Don't be all "yuk"ing...you know you have done the same. 

My first squirt of toothpaste just slid right off the brush before I could give it a run through the water. 

"Dang it, Dicky!"

My second made it to the faucet, but was quickly washed off when I ran it under the water. 

 

"Ugh" He's gonna hear about this one!

The third actually made it through the water and to my mouth. 

"Ok, Babe...maybe you are off the hook....AAAAAKKKKKKKKK!!!....What did you put on my toothbrush!"

I spit and spit, and gagged. What the heck did he use my toothbrush for? 

Um...ok...oopsy. My bad. 

Lavendar and Honey are supposed to be good for you. And are maybe even edible. But are not...let me repeat...They are NOT...the best tasting ingredients for toothpaste when presented in Bath and Body Works Lotion. 

*****

There's just something a little sad,and a lot wrong, about an almost 50 year old with serious bright red, pucker and ducklip pictures on her Facebook page. One, maybe they're being silly. Two, ok, they just had try try again, for the sake of trying.  More than that? You don't know how old you are. And the prettier you are, the more sad it is. 

I guess since I'm not single, hot, pretty, thin, etc. maybe I don't understand. But I honestly think if I were any or all of those, I don't think I'd want to attract that kind of attention. You know, the "you are really, really pretty but look like a hooker" kind of attention. 

Or maybe not. I'm going on a diet next week, so I'll try it the next week,when I'm skinny, and let you know.
 

*****

Ok...here's another act your age... If you are over the age if 16, it issss notttt cuteeee to add extraaaa letterssss in your fb postsssss. It's ignernt! :)

******

3/21/15

Good grief! I can't believe spring break is over already! It's been a good one. 

Not much Spring cleaning done, which was probably my most pressing need. It was way too pretty. And also, I just didn't want to. 

We did a little yard work. Got a bit of a start on the yard. Hopefully we will have a decent yard this year. And we've got to get it spiffed up and ready for The Hag Wagon Soirée! 

Believe it or not, she's almost finished! Painted a few details on the outside. It doesn't feel quite finished, so expect a little more. 

Daddy and Dicky helped get the screen door rescreened. I may have to redo the window screens. My first attempt was a little messy. 

You can kind of see the old crusty screen door here. 

The banner isn't the neatest, but hey, it's done! I may go back and outline them to clean up the edges. 

What's left? Replacing the back window which was replaced with a piece of plywood at sometime. Redo a small countertop, and figure out what to do with the floor. I have some ideas. Any suggestions?  I think the furniture will be yellow, similar to the lounge chair.

When you see the Freak Flag waving in the wind over the fence, you will know it's done! (Mine is about worn out. LOL So I think a new one is about due.)

New Haggy cookie jar!

 

 

********

What's else did Spring Break 2015 bring? Well, let me just tell ya....

Ok not much. Nothing big anyway. But it was a good one! 

 

Dicky and daddy decided to cook at a competition in Wichita Falls. I was a little hesitant, because I was really looking forward to a whole week off with no obligations.  But after the last few weeks, I was really ready to get away! I think my padres were too!

 

Daddy won 9th in Brisket! Dicky won chicken and 3rd place ribs, reserve grand overall. He won the coolest little deck cooler, made by an 80 year old man that started the organization that this cook off benefitted. And while Dicky is excited about that...I think he was more excited that the judges had stashed their beer for the weekend in his cooler they let him keep it all.

 

 

We did spend some time at the casino. Lost some. Won back what we lost. Then lost it again before we walked out the door. Booo....but that's ok...we had fun.

 

I sat down next to a couple at a trio of machines Friday night. Just playing up a storm...not winning, however...and the lady next to me leans over and asks, "What do you think you are doing sitting there?" Before looking up, I thought, "Oh hell! Did she have money in here and I didn't notice it?"

 

So I look up, and to my surprise, it's my cousin Debbie! She lives in Snyder, but we (I'm ashamed to say) hardly ever see each other, 45 miles away. Last time I saw her, was one of my trips to the ICU at the Heart Hospital in Lubbock and we found each other as next door neighbors. I have to say this meeting was much more pleasant!

 

We are going to do better, Deb! I'll be calling you soon! (Been telling her sister, Dana, that for months now.) But I do have good intentions!

 

Between the cookoff and casino time, we got in some visiting with old friends and other cousins, Linda and Sam.

 

I suppose I'll sign off for now. My bootie is tired and needs LOTS of beauty sleep to be able to get up and back to the grind tomorrow.

 

A new twist to my blocks. A frame you can change pictures/quotes out of !

 Go do something crafty cool!

Toodle-ooooo!!

 

 

The Tale of the Mermaid and the Coon Dog

Do you ever have hair days so bad that you pray the wind will blow HARD, so everyone will have a bad hair day and no one will suspect it looked that way before you left the house?

No....um, ok. Me either.

Before you start rolling your eyes, and talking about how you can't believe I would post such a picture of myself...let me remind you...

DUCK LIPS ARE STILL NOT ATTACTIVE. 

Go fix your profile pic, then roll your eyes at me. I don't care...whack hair, don't care. Sticks and stones, all that jazz...

*****

2/20/15

Random thought as I sit in the waiting room, Dicky on the endoscopy table. I could freely pass gas in here and most people wouldn't say a word, because they've all been on the dulcolax mag citrate diet for the last 24 hours. Their noses are self-scalded and would never even smell me! 

 

*****

I didn't test previously mentioned theory, in case you are wondering.

*****

 3.3.15

 

So I have a question...and really want a serious answer. Why can some women be complete bitches, people still love them, and they can sleep at night? While I, on the other hand, embrace and let out the inner bitch, and I don't sleep, can't forget it and feel like a complete jerk.

 

That's just completely not fair.

 

The initial shock is over since losing my Pister,  I'm back at work, trying to get back in the groove and "life goes on" and all that jazz. But I feel like such a sour puss!! Someone asked me today how I'm doing...my reply, "Just peachy." "Actually more persimmony, but fruity just the same."

 

I've picked at least three fights in the last 24 hours.  Actually had a fourth that wanted to argue and I didn't give in. (Yay me. Whatever.) I picked them...I could have just kept my big old mouth (or typing and writing hands, rather) shut. I probably should have. But some people just have it coming!

 

The pettiest of which, but the incident that makes me maddest...someone stole the candy from my mother's birthday card. A stinking candy bar! I've never been in an actual physical fight (except that one time in Jr High with Derek Dunn! LOL I'll tell you another time). But if I could find out who did it, I think I could really do some damage to those teeth that I hope rot out.

 

See...now wasn't that a horrible thing to say?

 

If it didn't prove my point exactly, I'd delete it now.

Now, I can't get it or the other mads out of my mind. Why did I feel the need to be ugly? And why do some of you get to be total bitches whenever you want, and I can't.

 

I hope that doesn't offend you whom the shoe fits. :) It wouldn't me. I'm actually jealous.

 

But since this being a hag business isn't working out quite like I've intended, I'm going to try to make a better effort to keep my opinions to myself.

 

And quit cussing. I've really, really said a lot of cuss words the last week. Just like this post...how many times have I said "bitch".

 

Bitch. Bitch. Bitch...there...now that's three more added to that number.

 

Bitch. Bitch. Let's make it an even five.

And you know wha t? She's a TOTAL bitch and I don't even like her!
 

You know what I want to be? You know, since the bitch thing isn't working out. 

 

A mermaid.

 

Mermaids get to swim around in the quiet water all day. They always have pretty hair, and have those crazy cool tails. They get to be friends with the Octopus, which would be totally cool. Because next to a mermaid, I think an Octopus would be an awesome thing to be. (You know the sucker hands and all...not to mention they have eight of them and I could do some major crafting with eight arms.)

 

You know what else? Mermaids don't have to wear a bra. They just go all free flowing all day and no one even mentions it! And they are not fat. Have you ever seen a fat mermaid? I mean an actual mermaid that was fat. Not just a fake picture that you find on the internet. (Mermaids ARE real you know. Just ask Kerry Dixon. Pattie, if you are reading this...please ask him to chime in with his expertise anytime.)

 

And best of all...they are nice!

 

I know that because look at them. They just look kind. So serene and peaceful. You can't float around in the water all day and be in a bad mood. That would make you a crab. Have you ever seen how a crab walks? Crabby, that's how. A mermaid glides. I want to glide.

 

 

Oh yeah...and they sing really, really pretty! I want to sing really, really pretty. But I'd have to be a mermaid to be able to sing like one. When Ariel had legs, she couldn't even speak. That would be horrible!!

 

OH. YEAH...I meant to tell you. Since we are talking about singing. 

 

Dicky is mean. Just cruel and mean. And rude. To me. His wife.

 

So we go to Lubbock so he can have his colonoscopy, you know, since he is now FIFTY YEARS OLD, and all.

 

He drives up there, but of course I'm to drive him home.

 

Everything goes great, by the way. We made it to Lubbock without any major "accidents", if you know what I mean! LOL And the procedure was fine, as were the results.

 

So we get in the car to come home. I did make two stops, but he stayed in the car and rested. I'm so good to him.  Then we head home.

 

He's reclined back in the passenger seat, resting his eyes and I'm thinking quality sharing time, right? He always fusses because, as he puts it "my nose is always stuck to that (blankedy-blak) phone anytime we travel.

 

I really had a lot on my mind. So we talked. I talked, I should say, because I had more things to say than he did. But he did, umm hum, a few times.

 

And it was a really good radio day, so I did a little singing as well. He is really the only person that honestly enjoys my singing.

 

 

Then. Out of the blue. He just says, "Would you just shut the "blank" up?"

 

I'm just flabbergasted! We were having a perfectly good conversation and he just up and rudely tells me to be quiet!

 

Claims he was trying to sleep or something. Really...could you really sleep with all this conversation going on? He wasn't trying to sleep.

 

So I told him fine! If he didn't want me to talk, then I would just sing. I said, "I'm in a good mood and I've got to let it out. So what do you want...talking, or singing?"

 

Do you know what he answered? Seriously...you will be floored.

 

"What I want, is for you to speed this car up and get the "blank" home."

 

I still can't believe it...Yall don't know how mean he is...he is just plain ole mean. Like a coon dog. No reason.

 

There...I told you I was going to tell on you Dicky. You old coon dog!

 

*****

 

Love you all bunches!!

 

In the Groove...or Cha Cha, or something like that.

March 1. 

New month.

New life chapter. 

Bear with me a few minutes....

I lost my sister. February 23, 2015. 

This is a pain like I didn't know existed. I am better now. 

But, I've screamed at the top of my lungs. I've cried 10 times my weight in tears (now that's a lot). I've beat myself  up with regrets. I've knocked myself down with guilt. 

I've moaned and groaned, and whined and why'd. 

But I've also laughed, and laughed, and laughed. And smiled the biggest smiles with the joy and memories of having had the privilege of all that comes with loving and being loved by Melinda. 

I'm not out of sap, by any means. But there's only so much I can share out loud without beginning to hear the eye rolls of those that must listen. Not because you don't love me, but because LIFE GOES ON. 

I don't expect to be without hard days. Heaven knows, Daddy and Momma, and her kids will have so many more than I. But I'm not going to plan for them. I'm not going to worry about them. I'm going to smile and go on and love so much better for the pain I've felt the last week. 

I love Ed Sherran. That cute little red-headed Englishman, that has a voice and a way with words that touches me to the core sometimes. (I'm not terribly deep, ya know). And in the quiet this morning when the rest of the house was sleeping, his little hidden track came on and I felt it appropriate. 

It I know it sounds like an Irish drinking song. So before you think me odder than you already do, (Freak Flag alert!!!)I need to say that in this sweet tune I hear a goodbye from someone that knows he's leaving behind regrets that will never be able to be rectified at his leaving. He knows he can't stop it, and he can't prevent the pain. He can only wish joy to those that love him and go on with what must be. 

So I'll share this, and promise (a promise that I will try to keep) no more sappiness in my little blog world. At least for a while. 

The Parting Glass

Of all the money that e'er I had
I've spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all

A man may drink and not be drunk
A man may fight and not be slain
A man may court a pretty girl
And perhaps be welcomed back again
But since it has so ought to be
By a time to rise and a time to fall
Come fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all
Good night and joy be with you all

*******

So....Now what...how do I talk about no progress on a glamper after that? 

Well, first I'll say. there's no progress on the Hag Wagon. I did finish a new little "art to me" piece to hang up in it. Problem is...I like it in my "happy room" so there it shall stay. 

Now you are wondering what in the dickens is my "happy room"? It's my craft room. I have a sewing room, too. But my craft room is where I hang/keep all the silly things I have made, bought or been given that make me happy to look at, but have no where they really "go". I spent a lot of years not buying things, or making things that I liked, because I didn't have anywhere to put them. Well, now, if the shoe fits, and it fits no where else, it goes in my craft room. 

I've done both...but I don't keep Dicky
in the Happy Room.
He can't be left unattended. :)

Now my craft/happy room is not to be confused with my sewing room. I have such an ADD mind, that I have to have two rooms so I can keep my crafts going all at the same time. I just run back and forth as the need arises. 

Remeber the flowers I had on FB Online Garage sale a couple of weeks ago...well...for whatever reason I found myself in the middle of the floor of my happy room this morning, and voila! The urge hit, and the flowers just happened to be right at my fingertips. So BOOM...I do still have some left, though. so if you are in need, please feel free to call. 

******

I have a true sadness for those that are only able to be sad in a time of loss. (Ok...a little sappy...but this won't hurt much, I promise.)The tears are going to fall, but God's true love allows for smiles in the worst of times. 

And by golly...there has been some laughing going on this weekend. 

Torie's boys are so adorable, I could absolutely eat them up. I wish I were able to replay all the conversations those little guys have included me in this weekend. I know Sam, AKA Uncle Sam, has played hide and seek until I don't know if he knows he's been found yet. 

Such total randomness, and honesty out of the blue. One just walks up, looks you in the face, with no hint of what's about to be said and says it. 

To Bailey, "You're pretty." (turns around and walks off)No smile, no nothing. It just had to be said. 

To Dicky, "You're smart."

To Mike, "You're big."

To "that other lady, I'm not allowed to mention", known as GiGi to the boys," GiGi, are you old?"

To the room full of Chicken and Dumplin cooks that I will tell you about in a minute, " Yall are so funny. Erbody in here is funny."

To me...I'm trying to make them call me Swannie, "You're Aunt Roxanna." (Aside from a girl Bailey went to school with, I do not know a Roxanna.)

OK...I guess you had to be there, but they are just adorable. As is little Logan. 

*****

How many goofballs does it take to make a pot of chicken and dumplins? Well, last night it took about 10. And a triple team of MerryMaids to clean up the  mess afterwards. I have a video. It's only a small portion of the event. And I've been threatened, by "you know who", (you know, that person that birthed me, that has forbidden me from mentioning her in my blogs ever again, all because I've told a few tales that she thought maybe shouldn't have been shared?)(The one that's name starts with a M and ends with an R,and she's married to my Daddy?)( Yeah, that one). I've been threatened by her to NOT post the video on Facebook. So I'm in a unique position in that, this is NOT Facebook, this is my personal blog. Yes, I do usually post a link on FB when I publish a post, but I never post the actual blog info on FB. 

So I'm having a hard time deciding how much heck there will be to pay if I post the video here. In MY OWN blog, that does NOT have her name mentioned anywhere in it. 

And actually...now that I think about it, she has never said I couldn't put her picture here. A video is just a moving picture, right? 

I'll just keep writing, and when I get ready to publish, I guess I'll decide then, if I want to include it or not. 

******

I don't know about yall, but I'm ready for Spring. We are planning a Canton trip soon, and I know Dicky and Daddy are ready to start cooking again. I think that "other lady" is, too. She usually cooks in the bean contest and any other jackpots that might be open at the cookoff. Sometimes it's dessert, or maybe bloody marys. But I think my favorite is the Salsa contest. I participate in that sometimes, too. Moth....ummm, I mean "that lady" and I have even won a time or two. She actually wins her contests a lot. They aren't too picky about your actual definition of Salsa, so there are lots of recipes and options available. 

Melinda has gone to a few cook offs with us, but I dont' think she was ever there when we did our Salsa. She was REALLY impress when "that lady" won first and I won second at Novice, Texas. 

In case you can't read it...
Melinda comments, " I never knew you could dance so well....
OOOOOHHHHLAAAA LLLLAAAA!"

I thought she was teasing...she wasn't. LOL She really thought we had won with some sort of Salsa dance. 

Well, I'm pooped. It's been a long week, and I think I'll go be worthless for the rest of the day. (because I've been so productive the rest of it.)

Until next time...go do something crafty cool!! 

Toodles...love, Aunt Roxanna.