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.