My childhood friend, Judy.

This is a photo from junior high band.

My best friend is in the second row in her band uniform.  I am in my uniform on the first row. She played Trumpet and I played French horn.

Anyway, she came to Shreveport, La. last week to visit her family, do some golfing and catch up with old friends.  I haven't seen her in thirty-seven years.  We had lost contact until she found me a few years ago.

Judy and I shared similar childhoods with alcoholic parents and other teenage angst problems.  I couldn't have survived with out her.

Here we are thirty-seven years later and it feels like we were still young girls.  So many crazy memories.  I am so glad that I got to see you and Terri.

 

 

 

My youngest came to lunch to meet Judy.

Past Halloweens

The grand kids are all but grown up.  I love these photos from the past.

A stitch in time... sorta makes me crazy

When I spoke to my sister the other night, I ask her if she could hear me screaming? "What? What are you talking about,Pam?" I said I've been trying to sew... She laughed.

Photos courtesy of Photobucket

I come from a long line of women that sew. When I was a little girl, my grand mother taught me how to sew on her treadle sewing machine. She could mend anything by hand. Gosh, I even learned how to darn socks. I have to laugh now as I think of how I once mended my husband's socks. Of course now, I would just buy new ones. How times have changed for the better. My mother sewed all of our clothes, my sister sewed and then there was me. I did not inherit their talent for sewing. I do very little to get by enough to say that I sew.

Grand mother's hand sewing/mending reminds me of weaving or something very similar. She would cut a piece of fabric from the seam or hem and patch the tear. You could not tell where it was. To this day, I prefer mending and patching to sewing. In my younger days, I sewed curtains, pillows and some kids clothes. I have not sewn in a long time. Only a button sewn on every now and then.

So it surprised me when I wanted to sew a doll outfit for my grand daughter.

My tools of the trade...
I've used this, too.


I've been here...

Used this, too.

You see, my version of sewing is to tape it, staple it or glue it. In the floral business, it is the fastest way to get a temporary solution to a problem. I ironed my fabric, pinned down the pattern, then cut the pattern out. I thought I better do some test sewing before I started to make sure the machine and I knew what we were doing. I forgot how to thread the machine, so I pulled out the directions and familiarized myself once again with the machine. An hour and a half I start to sew. After I practiced all the different stitches I had to adjust the tension and stitch lenght. Now I am so frustrated that I don't want to sew.

I continue on. I made a cute little pheasant shirt for Ali's doll. It is not a great piece of sewing, but I can say that I did it. After all of the preparations, I can honestly say that it cost less to buy the doll an outfit rather than sew. You know me...it's all about the memory I am making. Of course my darling cats had to help me sew and get in the way. Argh! I can't ever do anything without them.

Patience is a virtue...
I forgot to say this most important thing... If you really like something then do not give it up or stop doing it. It is hard to start all over again. Besides you might say a few choice words if you have to start over again. Did you hear me scream?

Ben, My Favorite Step-Father

Mary Lou and Ben circa 1962

Can you tell my mother has a flair for drama?

Mary Lou, me, my sister, Candy, and Ben, our third step-father at Six Flags Over Texas. That boy in the back was checking my sister out, we don't know him. I was twelve and my sister is fifteen years old.

Looking back over my life, I never imagined that I would marry a blond headed man. The tall, dark and handsome ones were my type. My father was dark, handsome, but not tall. He had left our mother for another woman when I was three. Perhaps looking for a man that was similar to my father's features would bring him back to me if only briefly in the face of my Mr. Perfect man.

I was always looking for my dad everywhere I went. Constantly searching out faces that resembled our father. Looking for his eyes. Desperately seeking him. While we lived in the same city, he never called and the last time I saw him, I was nine years old. His new family had taken his time and attention away from his first family and we felt abandoned. But we never stopped searching.

I really never even thought about blond haired men with blue eyes, until our mother married a new man. He would become our third step-father. He was blond haired with the bluest eyes you ever saw. Ben was his name, he was tan from his work as a linesman and had a kind and gentle way about him. He drove the most beautiful blue convertible car with big fins. How he came to marry our mother was a surprise to us. Mary Lou never settled down with just one man; there were many men in her life and ours, too. Ben now had an instant family. Not many men wanted a woman with kids. Those were the men the we did not like.

Often, when we did not like Mary Lou's boy friends, my sister and I would put our plan in action. Our one objective was to get rid of the obnoxious man by our terrible behavior. It worked every time. A few times it did not work out to our liking, but this time was different. Ben was persistent, and we found ourselves with a new step-dad and moving into a real home. Not the ugly,cold and grim apartments we had lived in before, but a house with a yard. Life was good with Ben.

This was the first time in a long while that we were a family, if only briefly. Ben traveled with his work and came home on weekends. We had barbeque's, went swimming, traveled to meet his family all over Texas. My sister and I did not know what an extended family was like because Mary Lou was an only child. This was a new and foreign experience for us. So this is what having family is like? One of his nieces was a little girl that was about ten years old, Ina, was her name. She sang I-N-A all the time. There was a song about an insurance company named INA. She would sing and dance a little bit like she could not be still. My sister and I were city girls and had little in common with these little country girls that had even less than we had. We went all of Texas to meet his family and they us. Little did I know that from those childhood introductions would one day years later help us overcome our sorrow.

For awhile our mother was sober and off prescription drugs for several years, but she still did crazy things like getting all holy on us. She tried to save all sinners. We were just children, we weren't sinners. Why she could not just leave us alone? Always pushing us away. Why didn't she work on herself first. Maybe later when she finished her own self-improvement and finding God she could save us. It was all or nothing, or nothing at all. Bazaar extremes and bad behavior were her trademarks. Life with our mother was not easy and she knew how to pick you to pieces. She did not want to be our mother, but rather our sister. Good grief! She had to be the center of attention.

Ben stayed married to Mary Lou until I was nineteen and in college. We had gone through a lot with Ben. Mary Lou was admitted to a long term facility for her addictions. My sister and I lived alone that summer. We were 16 and 18 years old. While Ben worked down in Florida at Cape Canaveral. It wasn't soon after that Ben came home less and less. We saw the writing on the wall and knew Mary Lou had lost another chance at love. I felt so forsaken like an unwanted kitten on the side of the road. I am not even sure I can aptly describe this feeling that had become all to familiar. The farewells and the leaving was a constant reminder of not being wanted. Repeated over and over for many years. Never feeling worthy of being loved.

One day, I received the call from Ben telling me that he was leaving our mother, Mary Lou. He felt really sad about leaving us and I could tell by the sound of his voice he was sorry he could not make it work out. Politely, I thanked him for the call, wished him well and said good-bye, once again, good-bye.

Trying desperately to just put this out of my mind. Every few weeks, Ben would call. He was a little tipsy, but always sorry for leaving. I thought that bothered him more than he even knew. We were used to it, the men coming and leaving. He always ask about Mary Lou. The conversation was cordial, but revealing little information. It was his check in call to make sure we were alright.

Every so often I would get that drunk call in the middle of the night from Ben. For the first couple of years, I just would listen to his liquid sorrow that spilled forth from his night of imbibement. His pain was palpable, but I was sad, too and so I listened.

Some how during all those many calls we became true friends. I liked Ben, even when he was teetering on and off sobriety, even after he left our mother. He traveled all around and yet still the calls came. He came to meet our first born son, Brian. He would drive for hours and as soon as he got here he would play ball with Brian. He also came when Hunter was born. He was still like family to me even more so than my mother. My mother never came for the kids births or for anything when I needed her, but Ben came. My own father abandoned us, but not Ben.

It would take me years to realize that I had married a blond haired blue eyed man that was like Ben. Not that tall, dark and handsome Mr. Perfect man that I always yearned to marry. Perhaps all those years ago,while my mother was never satisfied with me, Ben did the one thing my mother could not. In my mother's eyes, I felt imperfect, but Ben never tried to change a thing about me. He loved me for me and not what my mother wanted me to be. Ben visited my family a lot. He was the grand father my kids never had. He spent quality time with us.

He mentored me as an adult, encouraged me to bridge the gap with my estranged father. I learned how to forgive and let go. Ben was there for us when we found out months later that our father had died. He came with us to say our farewells at the foot of our fathers grave. He never judged our father because he understood what we were feeling. I learned what real family was about and what it meant to be a family. So many lessons learned while Ben was alive.

Even in his death, I learned how much he loved us girls. We went to his funeral in Vernon,TX. We were listed as his children on the funeral program. I can't even begin to tell you what that meant to us. It made me feel whole and loved. His family lifted us up with unconditional love. They had so many wonderful stories to tell us that Ben had shared with them. Photos and memories were shared in the Dairy Queen in that little town. I took my photos as well to share our stories of Ben with his family. I have never felt so touched. This beautiful family embraced us, we caught up on one another's lives. Some how they made it better. Their faith surrounded us.

Ben's sister ask me "Did you ever wonder why Ben did not have children?" Well, yes I did wonder why. She said"Because you and your sister were his children." I fell apart in tears and total surrender to this thought that a man not even related to us loved us more that our own mother and father did. This quite humble man taught me so much without saying a word. He was my best friend and I still miss him so very much. His family were good people and they showed without words just what love means.

I will never forget Ben. Never. He was the kind of man that inspires one to do good for others. I am who I am because of Ben. What a gift he gave me, when I least expected it.

Part Two...

In the Autumn of my freshman year, I met Doc. He was in my Spanish class and set in front of me with his room mate, Russell. I liked the man sitting next to him. He was tall, dark and handsome. You see that was Russell.

I had been sick and had gone to the doctor. I get a call from Doc Tannehill and I wonder why is the doctor calling me? I thought it was the infirmary doctor. I listened to him and then realized he was not the doctor.

He explained that he was in Spanish class with me. I got so excited because I thought this was the tall dark handsome guy in front of me. Once again, remember that I like tall dark and handsome men. I accepted the invitation for the date only to realize that Doc was not Russell. Doc was tall, blond and blue eyed and handsome for a man that was not my type. Mr. Not My Type would not work out so I thought.

On our first date, he took me flying. I had never been in a small aircraft and was somewhat scared. He ask me if I wanted to fly it. Doc said it was just like driving a car. Well, it wasn't!

He had fun stalling the plane and frightening me. It was late that day when he brought me back to my dorm. Pretty impressive first date. I did not know what to think of this blond haired man in a sport coat and a tie.

I told my room mate about him. She said "He would have to grow on me, and that I would marry him". What was she talking about? I was going to be an interior designer and I had not even thought of marriage. Little did I know that she would prove me wrong years later.

I did not let him kiss me for six weeks. Then when he did kiss me, well I sorta liked it. We grew closer and closer. He would walk me to my classes. That felt odd, but then again no one had ever walked me to my class before. All of a sudden we were a couple. Doc was very intense and that scared me. I had never been in a relationship like this before. We would fight all the time, break up and then get back together. It was not the sort of relationship I wanted.

We dated on and off for three and a half years. Constant bickering, then we would make up,mixed in with fighting and paronia. He was the jealous type, so was I, but not to the extent that he was. The next summer we broke up because he was going to Rome, Italy for a summer school program. I enjoyed my freedom, but being the good girl I was I never dated anyone. I heard all kinds of stories about Doc. How much fun he is having. I am OK with that. He seemed to enjoy the high life and rubbing it in.

Another year passes, then I go on the Tech Rome summer school trip. We break up. I am enjoying Italy because I am an art major. I stay unattached and hang with a group of friends. Thinking that our relationship is over for good. Doc started writing me and then calling me in Rome. He is sorry and begs forgiveness. Away from him I am strong, but he has a grip on me still. We are so young and silly. Sometimes you would do anything for love. I was caught in the strong arm of love and it would not let me go.



I had met a really neat guy before I went to Summer School and he and some friends wanted to drive me to New Orleans for my flight. This was the first nice guy I had met in a while. I just wanted to be friends, but he wanted more. It was the strangest return flight from Rome because my new friends were there to pick me up, but so was Doc. This was truely one of the worst days of my life. I had never been in such a predictment. What do I do? Do I go with my friends and the new guy or do I run back to the changed old boy friend? It broke my heart, but I went with Doc. Doc had changed. He had more confidence and knew what he wanted.

On the way back, we stopped at my new friends house to try to explain why I made the choice I did. We cried, he did not understand why I had made the decision that I had made. He did not understand that Doc and I had a long history and that I loved both of them. I loved him in a different way from Doc, but I still cared deeply.

So on the happiest and the sadest day of my life I chose the man that I thought would be the best man for me. Things were good for a while, then Doc started back with his old insecurities, smothering me with his doubt, his fears. Day after day he kept on and on. I was so co-dependant that I was afraid I had made the wrong choice. I had enough and left Doc for the final time.

This was not how love was suppose to be. This is not what I wanted. I can't breathe. I refused to take his calls and stayed in my dorm. I would see him coming and going from my dorm looking for me. Back in those days, men could not go above the living room reception area. I needed time to sort this all out. It wasn't long until my new friend called because he had heard that Doc and I broke up again.

I had to know if I had made the right choice. So I dated the new guy for a while. I found out that he was not really sincere about me. Maybe he just wanted to hurt me like I had hurt him. I don't know, but that friendship ended when I saw the real guy. He did not care about me at all. Now I am thinking that I have really blown it this time for good. Doc graduated and I heard he was dating again. I was alright with that because this was my choice and I would have to live with it.

By now, it is the fall quarter and I am back in school living with some new friends in an old house. I came down with the flu. I was so sick, and no one really helped me. Actually I don't remember very much about that time. Some how Doc found out and came to our house. He took me home to be with my family. I had strepe throat and Tonsellitis. I had to get a shot everyday. Doc went back to his home town. I could not believe that he did that for me.

It was soon after that we started seeing one another again. We had both grown up and put our childish ways aside. Doc was going in to the service and I took him to catch his buss. That was three days before Thanksgiving.

What I Did Today?

Do you see scrap booking anywhere on this list?


Nope...not any where on the list?



Here is what I have been up to lately...






I have started scrap booking in the last month. It certainly does take a lot of my time away from other things that I really enjoy...like blogging. As if I don't have enough on my plate, I am having a bit of time management problems, to say the least. Something has to give...sorry house work, I will get to you later.






This morning I had a full list of things I should have done and then checked them all off of my list, but did I? Of course not. I stayed in my Jammie's until afternoon because it was cold and I was scrap booking. I spent the better part of my day printing pictures. I did finish one scrapbook of my great niece and nephew. This takes a lot of time folks, or else I am very slow.



Next time I will get my prints from Wal-mart, that should save a lot of time and I will try to get dressed before I leave.


These adorable little people are my sister's grand children.

My great-niece and nephew.

I love them dearly.

I guess you can see why I had so much fun printing their photos

and scrap booking them

I did venture out to pick up the dry cleaning, but they forgot to send one pair of pants. Argh... I have to return tomorrow. It is about an hour away. I will try to get today's list completed tomorrow.

Now for the good stuff that Santa brought me. A new king bed post and frame. I have not had one since we gave our queen size Queen Ann bed to our oldest son. It goes without saying that I am a little bit excited and grateful. Thank you, Santa for the bed! It will be delivered next week.

You can in vision a beautiful bedroom with a gym in it. Yep! That sure does the trick for me.

Then there is the Total Gym that Santa brought us. Doesn't he know that I have my own personal gym in the suite part of the bedroom. It is half gym with an Elliptical, Treadmill, weights, stability ball and all the Cd's one could have on Yoga and exercise. You see why I need more equipment? I still think Santa took it to the wrong house. I have tried it. It's OK... The good news is that thankfully, I will never look like Chuck Norris. Not even if I tried. LOL!

This is the rest of the photos that I need to scrap book. I have made a huge mess and I will have to clean it up before I can start my next book.

There you have it exactly what I have been up to for the last couple of days.

Tomorrow, I work with flowers, so I guess this will be on hold for a while.

When did you grow up?

Happy Birthday to my youngest son, Hunter. Today, he turns 27 years old. I don't know how he grew up so fast, but he has. Hunter is a great young man and Dad and I are very proud of the man he has become.

He has been a volunteer fire fighter for a while now and is hoping to get hired on by the Lincoln Parrish Fire Dept. This is his passion in life. I pray for his safety because he has told me some harrowing experiences while on the job.

He would also kill me, if he knew I had posted this on my blog. That's what mothers do best. Embarrass their kids. Ha!

I can't believe he drives this big fire truck. If he gets the job, then he can afford to go back to college. He lacks 30 hours until he graduates with a degree in Journalism and History. It seems like you were just a little boy of ten just the other day.

Thank you, Hunter, for being you.

The Sound of Music

I have loved the Sound of Music since I was a young girl. The innocence of Maria and her naivety is simple and pure. The Captain is incredibly handsome. He was the man I wanted to marry. Tall, dark and handsome. Stong yet gentle is a very attractive trait.

What holds the magic about this movie that keeps me watching it over and over? Partly, because the era is intriguing, the evil Nazi's, loyalty to one's country, family, faith, unrequited love, and pure joy and the delightful music.

The passionate part of the movie is when Captain Von Trapp admits to Maria his love for her in this beautiful glass gazebo. You can feel the intense longing of one another. The yearning for that love, but it is done in such a tasteful manner that rarely has been duplicated since. It is just pure magic filled with the soft moonlight dancing around them. You can just smell the flowers in bloom, feel the romance, the passion. That is magic, pure magic and it gets me every time.

Stop I want to get off this ride

Well, the first wave of family have come and gone and I am just barely hanging on by a thread. I have become a hermit in the last year and this has been a challenge for me to keep it together. My son and his wife, three kids and my daughter N law's little sister that they are raising are staying through the day after Thanksgiving. They took her 2twenty year old mentally challenged brother back to Louisiana to live. They have had him almost two years and he has been miseralbe the entire time. The two boys went to spend time with their Mimi and see their Dad for the weekend. It has been crazy. Finally, they are back and we start all over again.

I have cooked and cooked and can't seem to fill any body up. I did not realize kids ate so much. We have been riding our Rhino and having more fun. I love to go full throttle and feel the wind in my hair and face. It is just the greatest feelilng in the world. The kids went fishing on the pond, while my sister and I rode the Rhino. The leaves are beautiful and the kids and I made placemats from autumn leaves and wax paper. I can't believe that through the generations, the little ones still like to make those things. I know I like to spend the time with the little ones looking for just the right colored leaves. Spending time together, just a simple thing that means so very much to me.

Today, we cleaned the house in anticipation for the group that will arrive on Wednesday and Thursday. My sweet daughter N law made the corn bread for the dressing while the others helped with the housework. I am blessed, yes, very blessed. I am sad and happy, but none the less, it will be difficult to leave our home and move away.

I gave my chickens to a man and his wife from my church that I know they will take good care of them. I cried when my chickens left. We hurriedly signed the contract last Saturday and the realtor put the for sale sign in our yard. Wait a minute, it is all happening too fast. Stop! Am I the only one that feels the pain and sadness of the moment? My feelings keep getting in my way. It does not bother my husband that we are leaving our home of twenty-five years. Why can't I be less emotional about this move? What is it that is making me so upset. It feels like I am the only one that cares about our life in the wonderful home.

My son and his wife have chosen some furniture to take back with them to Colorado. Some how it all feels so surreal. Can this really be happening? I am so desperately trying to look forward to where I am going instead of looking backward at what I am leaving. It is not happening for me. After all the family leaves, and my husband goes back to the little town he works in and I have to clean all the mess up and get ready to have ladies from my garden club to my home for a Christmas luncheon. I have so much to do that my head is just swimming.

I still can't believe this is happening? I have Christmas china and crystal to wash, things to polish and my home to decorate for the holidays. I have to attend several parties and I have nothing to wear. Oh, and on top of this, I must keep my house spotless for strangers to view as a potential home for their families. It has begun and I can't get off. My friends are still in shock that we are leaving too. Maybe my next post will be more positive. I certainly hope so. In the mean time, I hope you all have a blessed Thanksgiving with family and friends.

Cooking with Grandmoma

Thanksgiving at Grandmoma's was always exciting. GM made everything from scratch. Starting that week, she would save her leftover buttermilk biscuits and corn bread so it would get stale for the dressing. She would rise early in the morning to get the dressing and turkey in the oven. The smell was intoxicating on a cold morning. I would wake up to that wonderful smell of turkey and dressing, I can still remember it to this day.

At this time GM would also make her fruit cake. Yes, I know most people do not like fruit cake, but hers was delicious, even better by Christmas after a month of Mogan David wine saturated the cake and absorbed into ther cheese cloth. None better anywhere. So, November was a time of preparation. Making divinity, cakes, cookies, and home made gifts. A time for remembrance and celebration.

Growing up as a young child, my sister and I had very specific jobs in helping with the meal. Even though they were small, I felt so lucky to be next to my GM in the kitchen as she would guide me through everything. My job was to cut up all the vegetables for the dressing. She had this tiny wooden chopping board, which I have today, and I would carefully chop the bell peppers, celery, onion, green onions, parsely into equal size pieces.

The first time I made turkey and dressing by myself was frightening to say the least, but a sense of calm came over me because I felt my GM's hand on my shoulder guiding me every step of the way. It was as if she were standing next to me. To this day, I remember it so vividly. That was the most comforting moment and my dressing was great. I feel so close to my GM everytime I make dressing or chicken N dumplings. It recreates the moment for me, I am ten years old and with the person I love the most.

What's old is new again...mmmm

.


I am starting to revert to the old ways in order to be more environmentally friendly Once again, I am hanging out my laundry. As a child, we did not have a dryer because we always hung them on the clothes line. I can still see my Grandmother (GM) hanging up the laundry in her beautiful night gown and robe wearing red lipstick and pearls. That was her trade mark, pearls and red lipstick and anything with a rose on it.

My GM was a large curvy woman with big bosoms. It did not stop her from doing everything she wanted to do. One time I had to help her get into her one piece bathing suit. It was black, her signature color, and it had at least fifty tiny little hooks down the back of the suit, and then you had to zip up the suit! No matter, off she would go to the lake or beach wearing that suit,red lipstick and those pearls.

As for me, I stopped wearing a bathing suit when I was a size twelve, as a public service to avoid burning out the eye balls of innocent children. Not GM, she was a round, curvy voluptuous woman and she did it all. That is why I admired her so much. There was nothing she could not do.